Disclaimer: My name is King, I hate my job, I hate my job, I hate my job, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
III: Devil's Trill
CH23
Happiness – pt.3
"It's been an hour, Mello."
L said the words, he was pretty sure he said them but he didn't remember thinking about it, or worrying about it being an hour, or thinking about anything at all.
He just sat there, where Mello put him, on the bed, with his legs down to the floor and arms slumped on the sides for the whole hour, and the pose would be normal for anyone who was used to sitting normally, but for L it should've gotten uncomfortable fifty-nine minutes ago.
He didn't recall really making an effort to move.
Mello jumped lightly, and gave L a sideways glance before focusing on the police-radio listener and some maps.
"It's okay," he said evenly, "it's only been forty minutes."
"I do not like Mello's voice."
L didn't like Mello's voice. It was too even. Too un-aggressive, and considering it was Mello, the notion of the blonde being calm was an odd one in itself.
Mello's voice was... cautious. A voice every hostage-negotiator L had the pleasure speaking to used. Even. Solid. Careful not to provoke, careful not to say anything that would arouse internal provocation. Careful to freeze time and with time, to freeze the situation before it had a chance to escalate.
Mello was afraid of L.
Sometimes, when L was stressed, he had whiskey, and that made him lose it and scare Mello out of his bones. Sometimes L shouted at Mello when the blonde managed to screw up so much that it deserved scaring him into never doing that something stupid ever again.
And then there was forty minutes ago.
L knew himself, and L knew that Mello knew very well that if L had an anger fit, Mello was supposed to run, and run fast.
Mello wasn't running.
Mello's direct order was to run away whenever he felt even in slightest danger around L.
"You aren't following orders, either," L said absently.
"Listen L, drop it, okay? Talk to me. What happened there?"
"I got angry. He killed somebody."
"Well I don't know what you expected from him, but honestly, after all that you've put him through, I can't believe you were expecting a holy virgin in a white nightgown."
"He is a child, Mello. He grew up in safety, his mind... Light wouldn't dare to kill. Murdering people via proxy is a lot easier than doing it with your own hands, he... he can't. He just can't, he's a coward, he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger on a person. His mind would not be capable of handling something like that."
Mello looked at him then with sympathy and... pity.
Why pity?
"L, people change. I'm sorry, but I think you know you pushed him so far he had no choice but to adapt. He... you have to be prepared that whatever you get may not be Light."
L knew that.
L knew that, and damn it if he had a heart to ache over it, it would, but L had no heart, and instead the continence hung over him. A guilty one. L had seen deterioration in Light's beautiful pure mind when he was about to whisk him away from the greedy hands of NPA back at the abandoned warehouse with necked wall skeletons and bad graffiti.
It seemed that he had forgotten, it had been over four months since then.
Four months pass quickly if you sleep right though them, but if... Light was awake, strapped to a hospital bed, awake for every minute of those four months, free to think, and every evil, dark thought he had acted like rust, and it rusted his mind, rusted away until...
"Then what is left of him?"
"I don't know. Will you still want him if he's not what you've expected?"
L nodded.
Light was Light.
"Okay. Okay. Then sit back and trust me, okay? I'll get things done, and when we're outta here... you need like, therapy. Big-time."
L didn't find that funny.
"Or maybe, like marriage counseling," Mello winked.
That one worked.
L nodded and continued sitting and staring into space, wondering wistfully what the future would bring. Wondering, and just that: not shaping his own future or even attempting to predict it, but just sitting and imagining how whatever would happen, L would simply go along with it.
Daydreaming?
Dreaming.
Sleeping.
Fine, thin trees, charred by the mid-summer sun stood like thin, dry pillars with exhausted yellowing leaves impaled near their low crowns. The light, artificial forest of fairly young vegetation rared between the old stumps and planted grass, also dry, yellow and charred, with brown patches where the skin of the ground was directly exposed to the holy sunrays.
Even at dawn, when the heat went down significantly since the scorching afternoon, it was hot still, so hot that Light's black dressshirt with rolled up sleeves and nothing underneath was slightly sweaty on his back and threatened to cling should he not stop wondering aimlessly in the sun.
The chapel of Saint Maria was there, somewhere, not too far, and Light wouldn't go into it throughout the better half of the day even if there wasn't a primitive chain and lock around the doors that would be ridiculously easily to pick. Because the chapel itself was primitive.
If that lock had been an alarm lock, or even had a combo, Light would do it because it would be at least closer to home in some way, but he wouldn't touch it because it opened with a very simple two-pronged key.
In this old, deteriorating world, so close to nature and so far away from human things that the artificial forest and man-planted grass seemed closer to home than anything, Light would have really appreciated the police cruiser he had to leave in a ditch, or the laptop that needed its batteries conserved, or anything at all that was within his space of comfort: things that required intelligence. Cities that had as many variables as people in them. Technology.
This was primitive, he hated it the first time around, and the would have never paid it a second visit if it wasn't to get to the other L.
The other L, or how fucking stupid was he, to go after the second L when the first one was alive and well, and everything changed so fast he needed... he needed something, something solid, something to prove everything that was going on was as real as the crispy tree bark or the dried grass.
When the other L... well, Mello finally showed up, the little awkward meeting was awkward for exactly six seconds.
He was the man Light paid barely any mind to when he was around him for the few minutes they were around eachother before Mello was taken in for questioning as a witness.
Their brief encounter quick and awkward, and Mello's shorter stature, small, pointy nose and honey-mustard hair with just enough volume to make him look like a very beautiful girl made it easy for Light to simply pass him up, and Mello wasn't much of a talker either. Back then, Mello seemed to be only interested in the free coffee and donuts, and making Matsuda squirm at unprovoked sexual advances, all within a few minutes.
That was then, and the most disturbing thing about it all, as much to Matsuda and Soichiro as it was to Light was that Mello was no man at all.
Mello was a boy.
It made better sense when Matt came around, and Light really haven't thought too much about the fact, but Mello's age wasn't too hard to pin down. He was at the dawn of his sweet 16.
And to think that a horrible burn scar over the upper third of the side of his face was as permanent as the small, pointy nose or dark green eyes was disturbing of a thought. Mello was beautiful, and still this was a blemish he wouldn't be able to hide, ever.
The hair, shredded, spicy, but still long matched the permanent reminder of the warehouse disaster perfectly, and Light wondered briefly if the blonde kept up the haircut purposely.
Briefly only, of course because the digression and recognition happened all within the six seconds Light turned around and saw Mello before the boy punched him in the rubs with a closed fist and sent him backwards, but not before his foot was yanked from under him.
Light half-expected it to be a weird capoeira, but it was just a punch and a kick.
Light recoiled and went for the pretty face, but then...
If he had a reason to let tears sip out of the corners of his eyes for any reason, this was the best one, ever. He felt to his kneecaps and folded into himself.
Mello shoved Light's stolen police gun into the back of his pants half-smugly.
"Grab, twist an' pull. Self-defense 101."
Light told Mello exactly what he should go and do with himself.
"I'll give ya a few minutes, 'cause I'm generous," said Mello now coolly, while searching Light for anything else dangerous or sharp, "just to let ya know, this is totally not my idea. You're a prick, and in case you think I faked Ellie on the phone back there, I'd've shot you in the balls as soon as I saw you if he'd tell me he'd kill me if I did that."
Mello sure had a way with words. Light said nothing.
"Matty told me you're like speech-impaired or somethin', but it don't fly with me. If you don't talk, I get pissed, 'cause I like talking. So fucking talk."
"Nice weather."
Pain gradually subsided; it wasn't like it paralyzed him. It was just that Light wanted this to go smoothly, so he did nothing, despite the urge to hit that smug dollface. Preferably with a car.
Mello finally crouched four feet away from him. Light stared at him, and to say Mello wasn't influenced by Light's glare in the slightest was an understatement. Mello's features were cool and anxious; his lips were pressed together and it was obvious he didn't like this, whatever this was. He looked like a deer, a scared deer ready to bolt the hell away, and yet tied down, protecting something.
Light just looked back, waiting for the whole ordeal to be over with just so that Mello would take him to L.
The blonde didn't look like he was in any hurry.
"Fine. Shoot."
"What?"
"Questions. You got 'em. Shoot."
Light had many, none that he really wanted to ask. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to do this, either. He just had no choice. Plans changed.
L was alive.
So he just ran to him.
He didn't care.
"Isn't the weather nice?" he said in his friendliest tone.
Mello frowned and threw a twig at him, and Light felt around for something and found some dry dirt, so he threw that back at Mello.
"Haha, fucker," said Mello when Light's aim barely scraped Mello's arm.
"Bitch," said Light.
Mello frowned, stared, got up and started walking away, and Light had no choice but to get up and bite down on his own tongue to gracefully trail the blonde without stumbling or doing the bear-walk.
Being sacked hurt.
He followed Mello to a rusty Volvo, and no sooner than he got in and slammed the door behind him that the car took off.
"Well, you seem trusting," said Light as he tried to buckle up the clearly broken seatbelt.
"Oh sugar, I'm not trusting. You're just tamed."
"Pardon?"
"You're smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds you, in your case, the dick you suck."
Stunned, Light's eyebrows shot up, but he held his tongue.
"That was uncalled for," he managed, without any insult back to Mello. The blonde was right; now was a very good of a time to shut up and swallow.
Mello's long and dark eyelashes lowered and he threw the sun shield down, though really not because of the sun.
"Listen, you. I've been civil about the whole thing with L, and I won't take it out on your sorry ass. First priority is to get the fuck outta here. We can, you can't, so shut up and do what you're told. Do something on your own, you'll be riding out in a body bag."
Light nodded.
"And you know what? Same goes for L, I'm fucking sick of this shit. He did that, and he did that, and now that one's sad 'cause the other one's sad and you two can go and fuck yourselves. Fucking marriage counseling you damn housewives, you hear me?"
"L?" Light said, not really sure what he meant to ask, trusting Mello would figure it out for him.
"Yup. L. He's a moron. Just like you. He's not in charge of this anymore, anyway. I am. So you do what I say."
"Right."
"Fucking Right-o, Raito. And stay away from him for the most part."
"He's... angry."
"Yeah. Big-time. He's actually, well-" Mello paused, pursed his lips and chose not to continue.
"He is what?"
"He's Robin. You know, from batman."
"He is what?" Light insisted.
"You thought he was dead, so you know what, you worry about the "he IS" part right now. Fuck off. I'm driving."
Light left Mello alone. L wouldn't kill him when he walked into where ever L was... would he? L would be there, and Light would walk in, stumble awkwardly actually because the initial shock of knowing L was alive and Light would actually see him, in flesh and blood, there, alive, alive, was still there, and part of the reason Light was compliant and unaggressive towards Mello contrary to what he came there to do was because once he heard L scream at him though a small white phone all those hours ago seemed like a dream. Was it real?
The nine phone calls of directions to cover his tracks, and the schedule of their meeting by that chapel all came from Mello. He heard L at the motel all those hours ago, in the early afternoon, and now it was dawn.
It felt like a lifetime.
They drove, they got out near an old apartment complex with crumpling exterior, they walked up the stairs to a corner apartment Light suspected belonged to neither L or Mello, and at the door, as Mello inserted the key into the rusty lock and turned it, slowly, Light thought he saw L's slouched figure in a black SWAT getup, with the bullet-proof west wide open, tiny and totally unfit to be wearing clothes so important and heavy, his airplane-dried hair spiking at one side, his wide, large and black eyes, all, to the tiniest detail exactly the way Light had seen him last.
And then he saw the door, opening slowly, and finally, he would see L, the real one, in his actual clothes whatever they may be, crouching on a chair, or standing, or aiming a gun at him, or coming from behind and punching him at the back of the head, or taking him by the shins and screaming at him or...
The dark hallway, cluttered with old things that clearly didn't belong to L or Mello, was empty.
Mello made a gesture for Light to go in, but Light wouldn't. The blonde grunted something, pushed past Light, and Light dared to step inside only after Mello.
It was dark, dim, empty, completely alien and cluttered, stale, old, with wallpaper and boxes and slippers. The place was old and cramped, small and the kitchen door was wide open. No one there. Not in the bedroom probably, either-
"Oh for the sake of Christ, stop looking like a lost puppy, it's disturbing. He's there." Light's gaze followed the direction of Mello's general shrug, but nothing there perked his interest. Mello rolled his eyes, grabbed him by the forearm and pulled towards the open door of the bedroom.
There was barely enough space for the bed, and-
Oh.
"Mental breakdown. Fell asleep. Or fainted. You never know with him."
Oh wow.
Curled up in a tight ball with his pale face resting against his wrist, L slept peacefully. Light approached him, slowly, trying to make as little nose as he could with his socked feet against the dusty carped.
He didn't know why he had to be quiet, L wouldn't wake up anyway since the man on the bed was dead according to logic in all worlds, and still the sight of Ryuzaki – L with his large, bulging eyes finally shut was something to behold.
The man looked peaceful when he exhaled the dead breaths that ruffled the black strands of hair and expanded his chest.
Light felt those delicate breaths on his face before he realized he was bowing down to get a better look at the dead man.
A loose hair rested on L's nose, and the chapped lips that looked torn and bitten were slightly open and light could see the whites of L's front teeth.
Light had never seen L sleep.
But if the sleeping body was actually sleeping and not dead, it implied that L could and would wake up. Light didn't really knew if he wanted L do open his eyes ever again or not, but he knew for certain that it would make him feel safer if the men in the bed turned out to be dead.
"Well this is awkward!" Mello practically shouted behind him, making Light jump.
The large eyes snapped open impossibly wide, even for L.
But they were L's pitch-black eyes that matched his hair perfectly.
This was L.
"I was not sleeping," was the first thing the man declared, still staring dead ahead at the first thing he saw, somewhere to the left of Light.
This was L's monotone and sharp voice as well.
"I was gonna tell you that I, um.," shouted Mello again, probably to stir the dead awake if his first try wasn't enough, "…I gotta go. Over there. Right now. Yeah. Bye."
He was gone before Light began to worry about anything Mello did.
Large, cold and unfocused black eyes met his and Light felt his mouth hang slightly open and his lips tremble. Ryuzaki... no, not Ryuzaki's, L's, oh god L's magnificent black eyes were staring right into his own, expressionless take mild annoyance, and hell if Light's heart didn't skip a beat and breath didn't freeze in his lungs...
Dead.
Ghost, maybe not even that... a demon. Something haunting, something that went dead and tore, clawed and bit its way up from hell. L was a dead, and whatever died once should stay dead, or else it sucked life, breath and heartbeats away from anyone near it.
Light's skin froze and hands began trembling despite the evening heat, and if it wasn't for an urge to laugh, Light would have thought he died and went to hell, and hell was fiery and frozen all at the same time.
His eyes danced around the large eyes, sideways along a stray lock of hair and scanned the black mop to find an edge of an ear perking out of the endless haystack of pitch black hair.
L.
There.
Sitting on a bed and looking particularly pissed off.
All these months after Light's mind buried him.
It was ridiculous.
And yet the edge of the ear told him otherwise, so did a shrug that brought Light's attention back to the face of the man whose skin had long since separated from his bones and the flesh underneath rotted and maggots feasted on it and the large black eyeballs that were staring intensely back at Light leaked out and what should be looking back at him were empty sockets.
Voice he heard over the phone had almost no gravity.
This however, was as heavy as lead.
And if this was real and Light's mind still turned around the same axis it did before he tiptoed to this bed, the dead man on the bed would turn angry very soon.
He did.
Large pupils halved as the eyelids closed half-way and the pale lips thinned in the most vicious snarl Light had ever seen.
In response, Light felt his own teeth grind and his body withdrew from L's personal space.
It came anyway.
L reached out and slapped him across the face hard enough for Light to feel no pain after a few seconds after impact until the hot tingling kicked in and his cheek burned.
Halfway through reaching to pat the fresh bruise with his hand, Light drew back and slapped L back, just as hard, and his own palm tingled like a carpet burn when L's face turned with the impact.
As if refusing to admit the injury, neither nursed the bruised flesh. It was ridiculous really, and with each second the plastic wall-clock ticked away Light's desire to replace the soft cushion of his palm with a fist on L's face grew, and if L's nasty stare was anything to do by, the man in front of him wanted nothing more than to kick Light in the face.
This was unreal and at the same time their staring contest was painfully typical of them, and then something changed.
Light was surprised how easy it was to read the face of the man in front of him; L was never easy to figure out or to understand, and yet here was L, a demon so fresh out of hell that the soles of his feet were still covered in black ash, as human as Light had ever seen him, changing his mind, contemplating something, moving and slipping out of bed.
Torn between staying still for the sake of keeping his stare as intimidating as possible, and darting for the door the hell out of there, Light watched the smooth, pale face. The anger still lingered in the folds at the corners of L's eyes and the intimidating thin lips were still pressed against eachother, but L was genuinely cautions, curious almost.
Light stayed still, the black soles of L's feet quietly touched the ground and the man stood up at his full height so far into Light's personal space, it felt like something private was violated.
Like a Cerberus from hell, L circled halfway around him. Light had no choice but to turn his body around as L moved, and once L stopped, Light was directly between him and the bed.
It wasn't that hard to figure out what L ultimately wanted.
But then, the thin lips released, and a corner of L's moth tugged upward. His chin tipped up, and despite being on the exact same eyelevel as Light, the smug, triumphant expression somehow towered a foot higher.
Light immediately felt like a thing.
And victoriously, L looked down at him as if he was a thing he just won.
L looked pleased, and Light felt anything but.
"Happy?" Light hissed.
He could have said anything, really, but he chose what came to mind first.
The triumphant smirk subsided into a much gentler one.
"Not really," L hissed back, "are you happy?"
"No."
Light sighed and sat back down at the edge of the creaky bed. L still stood over him when he asked weakly, "so where does this leave us?"
Light didn't know.
"I do not know about you... Light – " the hairs stood up at the back of Light's neck. He heard the man above him say that to his face before, one time, and that got him shot, " – but I do not even know what I want from you anymore."
"I know what I want."
"My head."
"Very much."
L sighed and sat next to Light, but this time a safe foot away, and his feet were on the ground instead of the usual bird perch Light was used to seeing.
Was everything Light knew about this man a façade?
But...
This was strangely civil.
This was a negotiation, Light realized.
"I would like to talk about this," L began.
"Talk?" a hoarse laugh, "it's a little late for talking, don't you think, L?"
"You walked in here on free will. I think you would like to talk also."
"Fine. Start with a detailed description of hell. How's the weather there?"
"I am not angry you very nearly succeeded in killing me Light, though I'm sure you must be furious."
Furious?
Furious Light spent a third of a year antagonizing himself for not giving L a change to admit his defeat? Oh, Light was livid.
Not a scratch.
The resolve to shoot L changed Light to the point where once in a while he would wake up and realize the thoughts he had were the thoughts of somebody else, anyone but him. But he could do nothing, so he stood back and watched as the story unfolded though his very own eyes, and he had no desire to stop himself, but to push forward.
To go on.
And the inner turmoil and the loss of self-awareness and his own spirit were all for one sake: to rid the world of something that was long overdue for its coffin.
This man.
And to find so much change within himself and none in the man he changed so much for was hopeless.
So much effort, and not even a dent.
"Thank you," said L somewhere outside of Light's collapsing state of consciousness, "for the violin."
"Thanks for the game."
"Don't go nasty on me now, Light. It's almost over. Let it rest."
"Over, huh?"
"Alright," L sighed sharply and finally pulled his legs to his chest and hugged his knees, "I admit defeat. You fooled me, you played me like a fool. I ate up every lie of that brilliant act, I believed and trusted you right until I felt that bullet in my chest, and all while you were luring me into hopelessly falling in love with you, you read my lies and figured me out. You win. You took the great L down. Are you happier now that you heard this from me?"
"I would be a lot happier if you wrote that on your gravestone."
"You get what you get. Don't complain about the prize."
Prize.
This wasn't the full prize.
Or rather, price, but it didn't matter at this point. Without giving any kind of notice by looking hostile in the least, Light drew back a fist, and one swift punch to the face that felt so good in Light's lower gut sent L toppling to the floor. Before the man could even hit the ground fully, Light tried to kick him while he was down.
A quick glimpse at L's cat-like stance on the floor, glaring up at him though a curtain of black bangs dangerously with a thin stream of blood tickling down his lip from what Light hoped was at least a broken nose, and with his hands restrained behind his back, Light was wrestled onto the bed face-first, harshly.
The sharp fingernails digging into his wrists felt delicious. All the sexual tension, everything he felt gnaw though his insides and never quite managing to get out jolted throughout his body, sparkling, pleasurable, stiff and warm.
He kicked, tore and trashed until finally L straddled him from behind. In the scuffle, the threads holding a few of his buttons broke and the warm summer air tickled his bare shoulder as the rough fabric of the bed scratched his collarbone.
The edge of his shirt, no longer tucked in his pants touched his forearm when he pulled his own arm painfully, trying to break free. It hurt, and the pain was so good.
"God, Ryuzaki!" he half-screamed when he heard the man above him pant. He felt his own arousal hot against his leg, but L seemed to be sitting as good as on top of his ass quite comfortably.
This wasn't working, the sweet pain in his arms was dulling away, and Light trashed as much as he possibly could to make it come back, but L seemed only interested in restraining him.
"Light, stop this right now, what are you doing?"
"Fuck... fuck it, you hypocritical bastard! That bitch whose brains I blew out got you angry, huh? Well, wait 'till you see what else I can... do, you son of a-"
It worked, God did it feel good when L, his L, grabbed him by the hair and smothered him into the mattress. Scarce air burned in his lungs, but his erection jolted at the stinging pleasure.
It felt so good.
If felt.
L was shouting something angrily somewhere above him, and Light couldn't really see him, and that alone added so much heat to his body.
He had little space to move his head and it was a little disappointing to feel the air return to his lungs in haste gasps, and unconsciously he shouted back before he thought it through.
"God L..! F-fuck me now, you s-"
Skin nearly separated from his skull when he was yanked to turn around and his body flattened against L's. Hot, metallic lips saturated with blood forced his jaws open and nearly sucked his mouth out.
Hands, L's wonderful, cold hands tore at his clothes roughly and glided along his exposed, lower belly.
It wasn't harsh enough, there was almost no pain, so Light kneed L in the stomach, earning himself a hard squeeze on the calf.
"Why are you - you fighting?" L panted against his mouth, hissing while sucking the skin around it and nearly biting his way down Light's throat.
Light wanted him to bite, and he trashed some more until his wrists were pinned above his head and L hovered over him, frowning.
Everything stopped; the only delicious stiffness remaining was the discomfort of his weeping erection, constricted by his pants they never got around to taking off.
"Why do you want me to hurt you?"
Light said nothing, just glared at L, hoping the cruel stare alone would provoke the man to continue.
"Why do you want me to hurt you?" L shook him.
"Don't look at me like that! Just get on with it!"
There was a dull glimmer in L's completely black eyes; not a literal one, but Light only had to imagine it because the rest of L's face was tense in thought.
"Just hit me or fuck me, but stop staring at me!"
After a short mental debate, L nodded, and Light hoped L would go on like he did moments ago. He would even try to settle on L's usual roughness, which was minimal to begin with. Light would just refuse to cooperate too much, and things would work out for both of them.
And then the bastard released his wrists and softly pecked his lips, slipped a hand under his neck and pulled him up lightly to shrug off his pants.
Cool hands danced all over his body, caressed the skin of his naked thighs and stroked his erection, and Light had to screw his eyes shut and bite his tongue in order not to beg L to scratch and bruise the skin instead.
The pressure in his groin was insane, and a few light strokes weren't going to do it. Light squeezed the cool body between his legs.
"Light," hell, even L's voice sounded sweet and fucking gentle, "you're mine."
"Show me!" he barked, unable to keep it in when L squeezed his lower cheek and rubbed a cool finger near his entrance.
L only breathed on the wet skin of his neck and kept verbally gratifying himself, "mine. All mine, finally..."
Realizing his wrists were loose, Light forced his hand between their bodies, reached down under his erection, pushed L's hand out of the way and forced two dry finders inside himself.
The immediate hiss that followed only added to the searing jolt of painful pleasure inside of his passage. God, if L didn't grab his wrist and stop him, he would have been screaming in self-inflicted pleasure.
"Don't hurt yourself," said L, panting already because the sight of Light twisting between the sheets must have done a little something for him.
"Do it for me?" Light licked his lips.
"We will figure out what is going on with you later. Just indulge for now, you clearly missed this."
L's finger was dry at least, and it hurt just enough for Light to arch his back and bite his lip. It entered him slowly just as another hand fisted his pulsating member snugly.
"God yesss," he hissed as L reached inside with another finger and hit his prostate.
Saliva dripped down his chin and he grinded his teeth in silent screams. Sweat coated his exposed skin and pooled in his bellybutton. He held onto L like a last lifeline to his sanity as the man who was dead whispered soothing words and kissed his face and shoulders.
Light came without as much as needing L to fill him out on the inside. Hot semen coated his things and mixed with sweat, and L didn't even give him time to come off the shallow orgasm before pulling Light's legs around his waist and pushing in, slick with nothing but sweat.
Dry and painful penetration made Light's body begin sending blood to his lower regions again; his member didn't even have time to soften up, and his erection was back, threatening to burst in L's talented fingers.
It wasn't as if L was pacing himself, either.
In, out, it burned and felt so good Light screamed and clawed at L's back. Sweat made wet noises between their hot, sleek bodies, and L's haphazard thrusting soon became a way for him to ride out his orgasm as he spilled warm semen inside.
The sex was short-lived when Light finally came a minute after L pulled out of him.
He was still panting and digging fingernails into the bony back when L shrugged out of his desperate grasp to sit up on Light's side and hug his nude legs.
Between the sheets, stark-naked and curled up, L looked like an overgrown child, but his face was anything but.
Light tilted his head sideways to get a better look him; L's eyes were narrow, one thing Light had seen too much of in one day, lazy and satisfied. The dark bags under his eyes made him look tired, but the tiniest tug at the corners of L's lips suggested this whole relaxed façade was because L was admiring Light's toned, sweaty and completely exposed body as the stains of semen caked around his lower stomach and thighs.
Light honestly missed the cool touches, the sandpaper kissed and the admiring stare L would ravish him with after every time they did this.
And then Light laughed.
He laughed long and hard, he laughed until his throat itched and his laughter became hoarse.
A/N: Obviously, this isn't the end, but it's a hell of a spot to leave it on. Hot sex, ominous laughter. MasterCard.
L: MasterCard?
A/N: ... yeah, I got nothing to say today, other than to THANK MY WONDERFUL SHINEY REVIEWERS WHOM I LOVE THAT REVIEWED AND ARE LISTED HERE: SunnydayinPallet, Sueona, merichuel, donatellolover, fluffy2044, DrRabbit, Anna Marie Lynn, IsobelAnis, My Favorite Crooked Smile, music-is-luv, Sovoyita, angellovedark, YourBestFriend4, Dark Green Poop, Altair 718, Not Yet Knowing, IHideInYourCloset, Nardaviel, fouloldron, In Which Under Your Bed, s3v3n-d34d1135, jarnee557, Black-Dranzer-1119, Koolneko22, Jetta, Docara, Huehuetecti, isamu-michi, Kyro259, Hispanic Tenshi, Purple Glass, Midori Heiwa, pixie-lyric, realityfling18, o0CheckMate0o, ssjRaina, Uchiha-on-Crack, Eminem, CharmGirl24 and Rooky Girl!
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you I hate my job thank you thank you!
Oh! I'm doing NaNo. Obviously, on DeathNote. Watch out for something new by me. If you like DT, you would like that. I don't have a name for it. Yet.
Anyway.
Next Chapter: Happiness – pt.4, in which something is persistently wrong with Light, if you haven't noticed yet. Or that dark and ominous cloud hanging out over both of them. Hmm~
Magic Button.
Pressing it makes you and me very happy. :D
ILU.
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