(no subject)

[theletter]

It was just another day at the residence of Kira, his girlfriend, and his arch nemesis in their new-found hometown, Death City. Or, at least as far as L was currently aware, it began just like any other day. Seeing as Watari wasn't about and neither Light nor Misa were open to playing Fetch Sweets For the Spoiled Manchild for longer than perhaps once in a blue moon, L was cursed with having to make trips to the refrigerator every time he wanted something to eat (or, consequentially, L taking as many sweets as he dare in one trip and litter whatever area he was occupying with a plethora of various sugar-filled substances so he didn't have to make a trip every time he wanted something different to snack on). As far as L was concerned, every food that contained even a little bit of sugar was his to do with as he liked, with perhaps the exception to this being apples. This was why, when L opened the fridge door this particular trip and found a particularly tasty-looking cake labeled For Light ~ xoxo Misa, he had no qualms ignoring the label and taking it out of the fridge with the intention of eating it. L had a sneaking suspicion Light wouldn't mind too terribly, as sweets were never his thing anyway.

It's not as though it was the first time Misa had made cake, either, though it was the first time she had labeled it especially for Light. Obviously, she had done something special to this cake. Maybe all the other cakes in the fridge were poisoned with something aimed at L and only this one was exempt, or maybe she'd made this cake with Light's specific tastes in mind. Perhaps she'd hidden a piece of Death Note inside that she'd somehow kept from their world, though it was unlikely. There wasn't any reason for her to go to such lengths to present it to Light if that was the case. Not to mention since Light wasn't much of a cake fan in the first place, there would be little reason to make a cake especially for him if all the others were somehow poisoned or on a lower level of quality in an attempt to get at L for invading their privacy. In fact, it would be more likely that this especially marked cake was poisoned. If L gave Misa the benefit of the doubt and figured she knew very well that Light didn't eat cake while L very much did and had this in mind while making this cake, it could be likely she intended for L to be the one to eat it all along and put the label there for good measure. Though there was always the possibility that she had prepared it especially and intended it for Light and whatever she had done to it could only be sustained or perhaps easily overlooked when in cake.

In any case, the way L intended to test this out was to present Light with said cake and have him try it before eating any of it himself. If the cake was in fact simply of a higher quality than what she usually made, it would be worth it to put it to the test. With this in mind, L took the time to - messily - cut the cake into slices. He took two plates out of the cupboard to set slices on, pocketed the label Misa had made, grabbed a couple of forks, and set out to find out where Light had gotten to. It shouldn't take him too long, not when their apartment was as small as it was.

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[xanatospileup.livejournal.com]

Light shivered, partly because of the hand currently exploring underneath his shirt and caressing his skin, but also due to the unsettling nature of the other's words. Despite himself, he found that he was suddenly suspended in place by a much greater force than his rationale, overriding his senses so that all he felt were those hands. Gaping, his eyelids lowered in something resembling a haze, the hands that had previously been trying to tear him away from the other now holding onto him shakily.

"It's the damn drugs... No, I don't-- Why the hell are you so goddamn eager..." he rambled, too distracted to think properly, even more so when the hand at his backside caused him to squirm once more and accidentally rut his hips forward, clamping down on a low moan.

[aforceofjustice.livejournal.com]

L inhaled sharply at the unexpected - but most definitely welcomed - encouragement in the form of Light's hips inciting oh so beautiful friction against his own. L's hands and fingers dug into Light's back, pulling the younger man flat against L's curved and angled body so his hips could press back in turn, over and over in a steady roll. Thoughts of moving to the bed vanished from his drugged mind for the moment when he allowed himself to be overwhelmed in the sensation, away from his mind and into his body. L didn't speak, for he knew if he let out sound he'd be opening himself up enough to let Light hear how much L was caught up in the act and enjoying it as well. So instead of answering Light with words, L's mouth decided to direct its attention to the side of the younger man's neck, sucking at the skin and massaging it with his tongue.

[xanatospileup.livejournal.com]

The rational part of his brain told him he just wanted to scream right now, yet rather than the scream he wanted to let out all that came from his throat was a sharp exhalation, like he was choking on air itself just to keep himself from out and out moaning in pleasure. He was still too petrified to even move, an indiscernible expression painting his face now, as though he were trying to decide where he even was right now, head riding on nothing but pure unadulterated sensation now. Certainly not here, pressed flush against the one man he told himself he hated above all else and feeling his face light up from the suction on his neck. He wanted to pry the detective away from him, but instead of clawing at those arms for release he found himself grappling onto them and wanting more, just trying to hang on for the ride as the other's movements sent him reeling in waves.

[aforceofjustice.livejournal.com]

L's lips began to travel up Light's neck to his jaw and from Light's jaw to his cheek, and from Light's cheek to pause in front of his lips. L's eyes were half-lidded as they stared at the close face before them, his hips pausing a moment in their eager dance to appreciate the tension. It was amazing the appreciation L was able to feel for the man in front of him. Light hated L, and there were times when L didn't much like Light. The two of them were always at odds, two sides of the same coin, struggling with each other to be the one whose side came up on top. Sometimes it seemed Light could annoy L just as easily as L could annoy Light, but at that moment L felt none of that. L felt the erection straining against his jeans, and L felt Light's breath on his skin, but there was no hate, dislike, or even distrust in L, not when all he could focus on was wanting to touch and experience and taste the beautiful mass murderer in front of him. Briefly, L wondered what exactly Misa had put in that cake to get him feeling like this, but the wondering was cast aside when L's hands moved once more, trailing along bare skin only to end up at a button in the front of Light's shirt, one that was quickly unfastened.

L didn't talk, didn't want to talk, didn't want to think, only wanted to feel, as he continued to unfasten and open Light's buttoned shirt. Intellectually, L knew surrendering to his emotional state was dangerous, especially considering it was being tampered with, but L wasn't listening to his intellect at the moment. It was strange, but thrilling - freeing. It was scary, but L wasn't afraid. Light was just as lost in his emotions and sensations as L was, and he had done enough panicking for the both of them. This was something for the both of them to experience together.

[xanatospileup.livejournal.com]

This was too much, Light's eyelids growing heavy under the weight of his arousal, blinking back beads of sweat as L's lips brushed against his skin, cheek burning where they had been just prior to hovering now in front of his own lips. Somehow, it felt like it would be all over if the other kissed him now, and anything that happened after that would be completely out of his control. That was fine by his body, and a good portion of his frazzled mind now, too, yet still he tried stubbornly to cling onto those last little remnants. He felt like he was being put on the spot—almost quite literally, with the way the other was feeling him up—blood rushing through his head where L's steady gaze should have drained it of blood entirely.

He knew that L didn't want to talk, focused solely on unbuttoning his shirt now, but he still wanted to, while he still could. Quickly, he snatched the other's hand away from his shirt just as it was undoing another button. "You'll still remember this even after the drugs wear off, you know," he said stiffly, trying only to no doubt fail in dissuading the other. It may as well have been set in stone by this point, but this wasn't something he wanted to take the responsibility of etching it into his own mind for.

[aforceofjustice.livejournal.com]

L allowed his hand and arm to hang limply as his hand was held by Light.

Light's words brought him back, addressed the consciousness L had left in such a state. And L did think, and consider, and realized he was tired of it. L had died, Watari had died, and his thinking had failed to save him from even that. If this was L rebelling against what he had been in a previous life, then so be it. It was a childish way to look at the situation, L knew, but L was tired and drugged and he didn't mind using such as an excuse. Maybe he could make Light scream, use this experience as another means to blackmail Light.

But, truthfully, that's not what he wanted from this experience. He wanted someone he could trust, someone he could fall asleep on without having to spend the energy to hate. With Watari gone, L was looking for that person in places he never would normally, reaching out to find respite in one of the criminals he had sworn to catch. L's sense of professionalism had crumbled the moment Watari left his side, and he felt empty without his work. He had no purpose here in Death City. The closest thing to his old life he had was Kira, was Light, and to Kira, to Light, he clung.

There was no doubt in L's mind about this. It was impossible for them to return to the way things were, L knew that, so why not shift the dynamic between them through their intentions instead of just circumstance's? L had the chance to turn away long before this, even before he ate his piece of cake.

L's lips moved to press against Light's softly, then firmly, to seal the deal with a kiss. And with the seal, those lips brought Light's answer, even before L parted in order to speak it out loud. "I know."

[xanatospileup.livejournal.com]

Light went completely limp the moment L's lips touched his own, as though right then and there any sort of lingering resistance there might have been had been trampled underfoot by the contact. It was so soft at first that it almost didn't seem to even register, yet the gravity of it all came crashing down on him when those same lips pressed against his more insistently, demanding his attention. The hand that was holding L's squeezed reflexively, as though to hold on to him, to this moment; the way he was behaving was a complete and utter paradox, and even though he continued to blame the drugs for it something in him told him that maybe, just maybe this would be okay, that he wasn't in his right mind anyway. Even just that thought right there was a testament in itself.

It was so very hard, and yet also so very easy, to just let go, and he found himself struggling in a balancing act between the two. In his eyes there was a plethora of doubt and self-loathing at the fact that it had even gotten this far, and yet he didn't let go of that hand, bangs obscuring his eyes as he lowered his chin against his chest, the aphrodisiac spreading like a lethal poison that would only get worse and worse if he chose not to succumb to it. Where had all of that strength of conviction gone to, Light wondered, alongside the realization that he really couldn't take it anymore.

"We should move to the bed then," he said in a low, ambiguous voice, making to move toward there.