New fanfic, how long has it been?
Aiight, this little fic is for the contest on
kira_vs_l where the theme is L's birthday/deathday (Oct. 31/Nov. 5). I guess I'm satisfied with it. I'm outof practice; school is eating me. Those of you who've read "L is for Legacy" might be having a bit of deja vu, as what I've done here is fill in Light's sexy reminiscences with a more graphic flashback.
Title: Have Your Cake
Pairing: Light x L
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1600
November 5, 2009.
He had been marked for death before Light even set eyes on him. It didn’t matter that he was young and brilliant and, however irritating, the only person with whom Light could engage in stimulating discussion. It didn’t matter that their relationship had become physical, if not the least bit romantic. From day one, when he’d set himself up as Kira’s foe, L Lawliet was doomed to die.
~*~
October 31, 2004.
On the couch, L was eating a particularly oversized slice of cake. It was almost the size of his head.
"I just don't understand how you can eat like that," Light commented.
"Today is my birthday," L explained, pushing around frosting on his plate until it blended into a nauseous shade of green. "I'm twenty-five years old today."
For some reason, the idea of L having a birthday struck Light as bizarre. He wondered -- as he always did when L spoke -- if he was telling the truth. After all, if the creepy detective did feel the need to invent an apocryphal birthday, Halloween would be a fitting choice. And yet he found it strange that L would confess not only his supossed birthday, but an age as well. Twenty-five. A nice, round number, with a certain pleasant finality.
"Congratulations." Light smiled, scooting over closer to L. "I guess we should celebrate, shouldn't we?" With deliberate suggestiveness, he trailed his fingers down the nape of the detective's neck, feeling L's hair bristle in apprehension. "Now that Misa's been released, she'll be out of our way..."
"I fail to find cause for celebration," said L, shrugging off the boy's touch. "I feel old, Light-kun."
"Do you?" Light frowned, hiding his secret glee and assuming the concerned expression that had become so second nature it frightened even him. "Why?"
"I feel death," he replied. "In fact, I sense that I have begun the last year of my life."
"Ryuuzaki, come on now," Light rolled his eyes. "You always do this! You always get depressed right when we get closer to solving this thing. Just because your original convictions aren't panning out, because you wanted me to be Kira --"
"Do you really imagine it's that simple, Light-kun?" L cut in. His tone was incisive, bitter, laced with sadness.
Light sighed. "We caught Higuchi," he said, laying a kind hand on L's bony shoulder. "And, we learned how Kira operates. This is huge! Would it kill you to be content, just for a little while?"
"It might very well kill me to be complacent, yes," replied L earnestly, forking up a mouthful of cake. Before he could lift his fork to his mouth, however, Light seized his wrist and tilted L's head back to kiss him. L stiffened. He always got this way when touched, tense and uncertain, at once, somehow, reluctant but eager. L's discomfort heightened Light's desire. He loved asserting his power in one of the few ways he could decisively do so. Sometimes L fought back; sometimes, he even let L take him. He knew L wanted him just as badly as he wanted L. Probably even more. That was where Light's power lay.
"Light-kun is aroused by thoughts of my death," L murmured once Light's lips had left his. He'd shifted from his perpetual crouch, turning his body slightly towards Light. The open gesture was all Light needed to know Kira had won the little daily war.
"If you are so certain you're going to die," Light purred into his ear, "I want to give you a birthday present before you go." He slipped his hands up under L's shirt, and yes, L's resistance was over. He'd miss this, certainly: L's flat abs and smooth pale chest, the way his nipples grew preemptively pert when Light's hands approached . Curiously, it was not the body of a tennis champion -- his right and left arms were identically toned -- but then again, if anybody would have trained himself to play from both sides, it would have been L. He felt a twinge of guilt for what he knew he had to do. As creepy and obnoxious as L was, he possessed (nearly) unparalleled brilliance. Physical and mental brilliance. Such a shame. Light would have to make sure these last few days did not go to waste.
~*~
Light didn’t love L, not at the time, and not now. It would be more accurate to say he hated him. He hated that L knew how to push all his buttons, to make his blood boil, to pry under his perfect mask of innocence. He hated how L acted like a spoiled child, how he disregarded privacy and lied shamelessly in pursuit of truth. He hated the way, the very day he died, he acted like he saw it coming, like he could see right through everything. He hated him with a passion so acute that it became an obsession, an obsession so all-consuming it grew into lust, and then…well. There was little more he could have done at that point.
Every year now, on November 5, he remembered. Though it was L's mind he had battled, loved and hated, all he could think of was L’s ridiculous, impossible body: the constant crouching, yes, but also his deft hands, the angle of his parting thighs, the way his slender frame arched and curved and thrust against Light’s own, devoid of all softness. The way that same body had felt, under tense red monitor light, collapsing from the chair and into his arms as they skidded entwined across the floor. How light and hollow Ryuuzaki’s body had seemed as it shut down cell by cell, as the last flames of recognition flickered out in the dying eyes. How beautiful and sad those eyes had looked when they finally closed.
~*~
Light sucked and teased at L's nipple, his right hand in his crazy dark hair and his left hand wedged into the warm space between L's jeans and boxers. The smooth thickness of L's erection poked through the flap to nudge at Light's hand, demanding more direct contact. Light truly did love L's cock, its size and shape, the way it reacted and succumbed to him, acknowledging his power, as L never would outright. He relished having that command over L's body. There was nothing the detective could do about it. He unbuttoned L's fly and tugged his jeans and boxers down over his ass. He didn't care if his aggression deepened L's suspicion. At this point, he was counting on L's suspicion, of him and of Misa both, for his final victory. He couldn't safely kill L unless the detective tested the thirteen-day rule. And he would, because soon, Misa would dig up the Death Note. L leaned back against the couch, his pale cheeks slightly pinkened. Light was atop him, nuzzling his loins. He admired the fullness of L's cock in his hand, its rich sweat scent, its taste as he ran his tongue over its tip. The noise L emitted, something between a gasp, a moan, and a sigh, was enough to test Light's patience. His own arousal was killing him, seeing L like this. But that would have to wait. It was L's last birthday after all.
Without altering the rhythm of his oral ministrations, Light slid his hand under L's ass. L's back arched, involuntarily most likely, allowing Light better access as he blindly sought out the entrance with saliva-coated fingers. As he pushed inside, he glanced up at L's face. The detective's eyes were vacant and resigned, half-open like his slack mouth. Still sucking L's cock steadily, Light wormed his forefingers in and out of his hole and fondled his balls with the rest of his hand. With his free hand, he reached up under L's shirt and danced light circles over his hardened nipples. L moaned as Light pleasured him everywhere at once. Light tightened his lips around L's shaft, tasting the salt of precum. He curled his penetrating fingers teasingly inside L, pressuring his prostate and inducing desperate panting. This body...inside and out...he had mastered it.
"Light-kun," L breathed, in a voice reserved only for these intimate moments. "Light..." It occurred to Light that he knew L better than anyone. Only a handful of men even knew L's face, but who could say they knew the hot tight recesses of his most private places? Who could claim familiarity with the smooth upward arc of L's erect cock, or could pinpoint his impending orgasm from the slight catch in the timbre of his low throaty moan?
Only Kira. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
~*~
Light kept the dark haired man in his mind's eye for as long as it would last. Part of him hadn’t quite acknowledged what it would mean to kill L until it had happened. He had almost imagined, after his total victory, that he would still have L, bound and broken, locked somewhere specially for him; that he could taunt him with his triumph, ravaging him night after night, as Kira in all his unveiled glory; that L would not be dead so much as Light’s perpetual prisoner, invisible to all but him - panting, moaning, begging, screaming, defeated. Beaten.
But not gone.
There was an English saying about having your cake and eating it too. Total victory did not exist. You always had to make a choice.
Light did not regret his choice. He only regretted having to make it.