Rain fell heavy against the Task Force headquarters, its heft like a trample of feet atop their roof, and the wind whipped its spray against the windows with enough force to rattle the frame were it an older building. The gloomy sky lent no light, the office bulbs painting everyone a pallid hue.
A deep sigh went unheard through the chatter of the room, and it was clear the pretense of working had long-since been abandoned. Aizawa offered fond assurances into his cellphone, while Matsuda and Mogi discussed the latest reality special Sakura TV had churned out- well, Matsuda discussed it, Mogi mostly nodded in short intervals.
Soichiro was en route back to HQ. He’d followed up with Director Kitamura at the man’s request, the appointment more of an interrogation than anything. He’d been grilled for information on the investigation that he simply would not give, and Light sympathized for the headache it all was (and the literal headache it would no doubt cause), and tried to focus on something, anything, if only for his father’s sake.
He wasn’t entirely accomplishing the task.
“Raito-kun seems tense today,” L said, monotonous voice floating closer as he rolled on his wheeled desk chair. “Perhaps he’d care to pay Miss Amane a late-night visit...”
“I only meant that you might rest better with someone as loving as her by your side,” L said, owlish eyes shining with faux-innocence.
“And you just happened to forget that you would be along for the ride, huh?” Light said, jingling the chain between them flippantly. “Besides, I’d sooner spend the night with Matsuda-san.”
“I’d say there’s a 57% chance he would have a positive response to that scenario. No, make that 61%,” L said casually, thumb playing at his lip. “I wasn’t aware Raito-kun had a proclivity for sleeping with men.”
Light huffed somewhere between amusement and annoyance, opting to ignore the first comment completely. “Proclivity is a little generous seeing as you remain the only man I’ve ever slept with.”
L raised a non-existent eyebrow at the double entendre, and Light barely restrained an eye-roll.
“You are such a child.”
“The fact that I am old enough to be a suitable bed partner for Raito-kun says otherwise.”
“Bed partner?” he echoed, a touch too loudly, though a quick glance reveals he’s garnered no extra attention. He lowered his voice a few notches anyway. “Let’s not mince words. You mean fuck buddy.”
The whispered profanity was a small thrill, but it was the ghost of a smirk on L’s face that compelled him.
“Yes. Has Raito-kun had any before?”
“You’re awfully prurient,” Light scolded, eyes alight with something like mischief. “No, I haven’t. Though I’ll admit, it seems a convenient setup. In theory.”
Satisfying one’s baser urges without the mess of emotional intimacy a relationship demanded? It was an attractive notion, and truth be told he lacked the firsthand experience required to have any right to condemn it.
“Yes, it does. Perhaps Raito-kun should think on it.”
“Think on it?” Light asked, the allusion catching up to him a beat later. “...Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
“Raito-kun is a very smart man, I’m sure he can figure it out.”
The squeaky scuffle of leather shoes on the threshold announced Soichiro’s return. He shed his soaked jacket tiredly, Matsuda by his side instantly with an offer of coffee. The young agent took it upon himself to deliver some note-worthy news, proudly announcing Misa-Misa’s triumph as #1 in Teen Chic magazine’s popularity poll, and Light found his conversation had ended as quickly as it started.
He glanced at the clock.
They had about 15 more minutes.
He glanced at L.
He had about 15 more questions.
Well, at least now he was focused on something.
Four days later, after much deliberation between his mind (from whom he received a steadfast No) and his body (who presented a surprisingly cogent counterargument), he made an executive decision.
He gently tapped the paper files on his desk, setting the neatened pile down before regarding the slouching man at his side. He’d made progress in spades today, and this area would not be the exception.
Spindly fingers paused in their task of stacking sugar cubes, L’s impish demeanor in full form as he looked up from his crouch.
“My answer is yes,” Light clarified, hands folded neatly in his lap.
“I don’t recall asking a question,” L said. He knocked his saccharine tower over with a nudge, sending the squares careening into his tea.
Light crossed one leg over the other, drawing attention to the fitted slacks he’d picked out in anticipation of their conversation.
“You didn’t have to.”
“Well, that’s rather presumptuous, don’t you think?”
Light scoffed, crossing his arms loosely. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to play coy, Ryuuzaki.”
“I’m afraid Raito-kun’s ego has become something of a monster if he thinks the great detective L would deign to play coy.”
Light took pause at the comment, pursed lips shifting into a small, roguish smile. He peered at L over the haughty bridge of his nose, settling his weight on the arm of the chair to lean in just a breath too close.
“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
He expected a stony glare for the comment, or if L was feeling confrontational perhaps he’d sling another bogus percentage to provoke him into cocking his fist back, but that’s not what he gets.
He’s taken aback at the intense expression L levels him with, at the evident interest that pools in his gaze, brazen and suggestive.
Light tilted closer in quiet intrigue.
“...sure does talk a lot.”
Progress, it seemed, was not always guaranteed.
Having grown impatient of the waiting game L insisted on playing, it’s in an act of selfishness that he opts to make the first move.
His stomach flipped as he tried to work up the momentum to start, to find the place where their ill-advised exploration could begin.
They slipped into bed wordlessly post-shower, the silence of the room charged with something provocative. Light rolled over to face him, curling up close with a demure expression that made the corners of L’s mouth quirk. He nearly smirked in return, before reaffirming his goal and reaffixing his mask. This game had an objective, and he always played to win.
His foot trailed along a jean-clad calf, flaunting his intentions as he drew closer. He paused a breath away from his face, as if daring L to object to the proximity. But before a taunt could roll off his silver tongue, firm arms coiled around his torso, a warm mouth catching against his own in a proper kiss, and while his limbs went boneless his pants tightened.
After an hour-long match featuring tongue-locked mouths and deft, wandering hands, they came to the conclusion that an alliance had its merits, and that a little cooperation went a long way, indeed.
Light thought, perhaps, he ought to feel guilty about their repeated transgressions, but it was almost alarmingly easy to pretend like nothing had changed. The Task Force filed out one by one to take their lunch, and without another thought he slipped into a blind spot with L, arms winding around his neck with increasing familiarity. L’s hand ventured up his shirt to skirt over his stomach, and their shared breath became startling loud in the hall, L swallowing the sounds that blossomed from his throat eagerly.
Each day was a new risk to weigh, another barrel emptied in their silent roulette, but they had never discussed ground rules beyond don’t get caught, and Light found a certain satisfaction in flaunting the impropriety right under their noses. It was arrogant, and he could begrudgingly confess it stroked more than his ego.
Did the other men have the capacity to conjure such a notion? Misa seemed to be the only one to see the potential of them; when she’d voiced her protests to the chain that bound them -accusing L of the sordid behavior he was currently exhibiting- something had stirred within him, a quiet curiosity kindled.
The same fire stirred in him now, a blaze in its own right.
They had only ever dared to rut against one another when not using hands to touch and tease, but today he felt wanton, emboldened by some unknown force. So for the first time, he gave voice to his desire, the confession tinged with an undercurrent of embarrassment that made him shift indecently.
“I want to suck you,” he whispered by L’s ear. He palmed the prominent bulge in the man’s jeans with a deliberate slowness, feeling it pulse under his touch. “Can I, Ryuuzaki?”
L’s breath caught at the admission, black-rimmed eyes surveying his mouth with an unmistakable interest. The cogs of his brain turned quickly, weighing the choices Light had already considered.
“Raito-kun always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?” he said, hands playing along Light’s waist. “...And what’s one more rule broken, after all?”
Everything, and you know it.
He bit his tongue. For what was another line crossed, another morally dubious indulgence amidst the power plays and shades of casuistry? It was a drop in the bucket, really. L had played with cards beneath the table from the start, but so had Light, and it was only the natural progression of things that had led their underhanded game here, pushing things to their limit as they were wont to do.
He dropped to the floor gracefully, knees to the plush carpeting as L began to unbutton his jeans, the swiftness of his hands betraying his impatience. He heard the notches of his zipper lowering, and then L’s length was jutting from the open V of his jeans, and it’s the same one he’d seen before, pink-tipped and nestled in downy dark hair, but it’s a fresh sight. Gone was the platonic, soft penis he’d glanced from their shower routine, and in its place a heavy, blood-flushed cock aching for his touch.
It was an entirely new experience, one he was determined to conquer. He wrapped his fingers around it, giving it a few experimental strokes. L liked it when he went slower, and he liked it even more when he tightened his grip, fluid dribbling from the tip as he began to work him.
His mouth watered at the sight of it, and his arousal blared louder than his nervousness. He held it steady, breath hot against the length, eyes nearly closed as he let his tongue lav over the head and down the underside, trailing a wet path. He suckled the crown between his lips, swirling and tasting in a way reminiscent of the treatment L gave the strawberry pops he favored, and it was saltier than he expected but he had never been harder in his life than when he splayed a hand on L’s thigh and took him in deeper. He left hot open-mouthed kisses along the length, thrilled to witness L’s steady unraveling.
L exhaled harshly, brows pinched as his hips bucked. Light gathered saliva in his mouth, getting L as wet as he could before attempting to take him farther. His hands slipped down to the floor, fingers digging into the carpet as he tried to relax his jaw. It was harder than he’d thought to open up his throat, and he couldn’t go as deep as he wanted to, but L didn’t seem to share his concern.
The detective’s breath was shallow, and his hands fell to Light’s shoulders as the teen pressed forward, moving as deep as he could manage before pulling back. He fell into a satisfying rhythm, fucking his mouth on L’s cock in earnest, spit spilling from the corners where his pout was stretched wide. L groaned, a low noise from deep in his chest, and it was something like gospel falling on his ears- and what did that say about his own divinity, that he had inspired it?
He wasn’t Kira, he knew that, but the juxtaposition of the notion made warmth suffuse in his chest; playing the villain to his sleuth, just like L wanted him to. Kira and L, their rivalry staged like some Homeric buskin, only to meet in the middle like this, with flagrant disregard for their roles. Surely Misa’s power to rose-tint their lives must have begun to rub off on him, but he allowed himself to get swept up in the romanticized thought of it, in the purpose it held, if only for a moment.
L fought the urge to push forward, uncharacteristically mindful in his exploration of boundaries, and it’s more care than Light had ever seen him exhibit. Light’s hand clutched his pant leg in silent consent, sucking harder in encouragement.
The color rushed to his face as L pumped into his mouth with increasing need, and Light scrambled to get his own zipper down around the tent in his pants. He pulled his dick free from the stickiness of his lap with haste, breathing through his nose as he stroked himself off.
L slipped in and out of his mouth faster, rivulets of drool slipping down his face where his jaw had gone numb, and his hand was a blur around his own need. The shiny head of his dick peaked out with every downward motion of his hand, and when he spilled between his fist, it was almost a shock; it crashed over him and he made a mess of himself, mewling desperately around the thick shaft still moving inside him. L swore as he surveyed the sight of him, unkempt and filthy, and it only took three more thrusts before he throbbed powerfully, spurting warmth into the back of his throat, fingers wound tight in the soft hickory of his hair.
Light caught himself in a mirror -just in passing, long enough to note his rumpled collar and kiss-swollen mouth, the telltale signs of their deceit- and for a moment he considered his position in their new dynamic. There was no judgement to perceive, nothing to inspire indignation; he was without shame, and L had given him no reason to feel slighted.
It had seemed the nature of their relationship to be at one another’s throats, but in this they had fallen into step with a remarkable ease. Light would demand of him -pulling him in by his shirt with a whispered “Come here”- and L would oblige, lifting him on to the edge of his desk and giving and giving and giving until his cup was overflowing.
He didn’t need to ruminate on it any longer than a minute, for only a fool would think to call that type of power submission.
He’d been openly panting into L’s mouth, rutting against his leg when a pale hand slipped past the waistband of his slacks, and into his briefs. Long fingers rubbed slowly at his hole, the only moisture present the sweat they’d worked up between them, and within moments one was sinking into his heat.
He’d gasped so loud L had clapped his other hand over his mouth to silence him, though the digit only sunk deeper.
“Do try to be quiet, Raito-kun. We don’t want anyone to find us like this, do we?”
They were in a hallway between active floors, the team above them and Misa below. It wasn’t a blind spot, but that didn’t matter, because all it would take was someone looking for them to mark disaster. For a moment he imagined a clueless Matsuda getting off on their floor, stumbling upon their secret, and his chest tightened in equal parts fear and excitement, a knife-sharp thrill.
L pushed further, starting a slow in and out motion, curling fingers seeking something-
“Uhnn,” he writhed, hips pushing back against him, the centre of his pleasure rippling through his limbs and filling him with a brazen need. His brows were drawn together, the high flush atop his cheeks a sweet gilding that mirrored L’s own. L worked another finger inside him, and the knot in his stomach eased as lust took precedence. His restraint slipped as he clenched greedily around the addition, the last of his reservations melting away.
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Light provoked with a breathy laugh, turning his face to press his cheek to the cool wall. “Even now you think I’m Kira, yet you still want me.”
L huffed as he sped the pace of his hand, his other hand squeezing a handful of Light’s ass.
“God help me, I do,” came his low reply, feverish and resigned all at once.
God, he called. Surely it wasn’t redemption he sought, for what else came from playing with fire but destruction?
L fell to his knees, pulling him in by his waist. He had never been one to hesitate, an admirable trait, to be sure. He spread Light open, running a finger over his hole, watching it flex against him. He spit on the little pucker, and Light’s knees nearly buckled. L steadied him, clever digits pushing the lubrication inside. It was wetter, the slide easier, and the friction improved enough for him to fit a third finger alongside the other two.
Light’s dick jerked as L slammed his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him, and it’s on the fourth pass that he couldn’t bear it anymore. He urged him up with a demanding tone and L hurriedly obliged, plastering his chest against his back. His mouth traveled along the junction of his neck and shoulder as Light reached back to take him in hand, guiding him to the hot place between his legs. The tip prodded at his entrance, and Light gasped as it caught on the rim, pushing past the tight ring, into his core.
L pulled his shirt up and Light took the hem of it between his teeth, the material bunched up around his collarbones. His nipples pressed to the wall, rapidly hardening at the chill, and he bit harder around the cloth in his mouth; it was all he could do to stifle himself as L slid deeper, body yielding to the intrusion.
He was being turned inside out; if he didn’t close his eyes he’d lose his standing completely, fall headfirst into a heady stupor. Mortification made his head spin, but it only seemed to amplify the carnality tenfold, til he could hear his own pulse in his ears. He was anchored by the heat of his breath against the wall, by L’s hands gripping bruises into his waist as the sound of the metal chain clinked between them. L moved inside him, hard and imposing, spearing the wet clutch of his body open.
The title, the enigma, the flesh and blood man tethered to him in every manner of the word. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d uttered anything other than the man’s alias, whether behind closed doors or during their reticent public interactions, but the name had left him unbidden, and its escape opened a floodgate. A litany left him, unfiltered and defined by the monosyllabic name, the friction reducing him to a pile of need, wanton in the circle of his arms.
“Oh fuck, L.”
The response was immediate; the cock inside him seemed to grow harder still, and L pressed closer to him, looping an arm around his hips and lifting his bottom until he was on the tips of his toes. L swore under his breath, thrusting into his upturned ass with a desperation he could taste. He braced himself against the wall and arched his back further, the ache of it primal, satisfying like nothing else.
His leaking cock bobbed between him and the wall, their joining making lewd sounds that made his head dizzy with lust. He could feel L’s sac hitting his skin with every thrust, drawn tight and ready to spill, and it’s the thought of his hole working L off that makes him choke and throb, his orgasm ripping through him. Warm, white jets of it hit the wall between them, and L fucked him through it, the smack of their bodies loud as he rooted for his own completion.
He made no pretense of pulling out. He gripped Light’s hips hard and came thick inside him, pulsing as he filled his tender channel with seed. He bounced Light’s ass on his cock, enjoying the ripples of his pleasure and the teen’s obvious oversensitivity.
With labored breath he pulled out, taking a dribble of cum with him, the pearlescent fluid spilling from Light’s hole to drip down his thighs.
“We made a mess.”
Light turned his back to the wall, heart still pounding in his chest.
“Yes, we did,” he said. The dishevelment of his hair was coquettish, and he looked far from spent. “And I think I want to make another one.”
“Hey, has anyone seen Ryuuzaki and Raito-kun?” Matsuda asked, peering from behind an armful of boxes.
He laid them on a nearby table, popping the tops to reveal an assortment of pastries. The enticing smell of espresso wafted nearby, the coffee machine nearly done with its brew.
“Uh, not in the last hour, I don’t think,” Aizawa answered distractedly.
Soichiro looked up from his paperwork. “They may be visiting with Amane-san.”
“I offered Misa-Misa a donut on my way up and I didn’t see them,” Matsuda said, scratching the back of his neck idly.
“I can check the cameras,” Mogi suggested.
They all mumbled their approval, charging him with the task as they took their pick of the treats with gusto.
A dozen clicks and two ridiculously long passwords later, Mogi had managed to pull up a few camera feeds on his personal computer, lazily scanning the streams for movement. He switched to another floor, eyes passing over the picture only to whip back to it, bulging as they focused on the frame. He enlarged the picture to a full screen, and though his volume was so low it was only a soft buzz, he nearly panicked to turn the sound off.
Light was trapped against the wall, L’s hands pinning him there, but it was clearly not fighting they were doing. A flush crawled up Mogi’s neck, steady in its climb, and he was deeply grateful his computer was angled away from view of the others. His mind itched to backpedal even as it played out on the screen, but his denial conceded its loss as he watched their lips meet over Light’s shoulder. L pushed a knee between the teen’s legs, nudging them further apart, and Light let him, mouth falling open in what would no doubt be an incriminating sound for anyone present to hear.
His boss and the Chief’s son... It was a serious blow dealt to their professionalism, a scandal that carried enough weight to upend their already fragile team. He glanced to Soichiro, and blanched at the chain of events the revelation could trigger. Where would they be without the Chief’s support of L? They’d questioned his methods from day one, but Soichiro had been the one to urge cooperation, even upon learning his son was a prime suspect. It was a slap in the face to his good faith, to his unshakeable ethics, though in truth Mogi wondered of L’s perspective. Was he enamored of Light? Was it a coupling born of passion, or ulterior motives? Neither seemed plausible, yet one, if not both, had to be true.
And what of Light’s view on it all? L had monopolized his life, confined him for months on end, and took hold of his freedom via 6 feet of steel chain. How could attraction take root when the ground between them was a blazing path?
God, it was all so ridiculous! They’d been working this case for over 6 months, and it had only gotten more convoluted by the day, a stream of bizarre events that blindsided them at every turn. The affair almost seemed fitting in that respect, a final variable meant to underline it all and complicate things even further.
That said, he often caught himself thinking of L and Light as an extension of one another, and not just because of the cuffs that bound them. They seemed to operate on a different wavelength, that much was clear from the way they remained ahead of the curve at any given moment, and though he didn’t understand it, he could at the very least acknowledge the link they shared alone. To think Light had gone as long as he had slowing himself down for those around him, when he had within him the potential to rival the mind of the greatest detective the world had ever known. And L, who seemed to live a life of paranoid seclusion, what must he feel to have someone who could keep up with him, at last?
Perhaps he shouldn’t judge too harshly of a topic he knew little about, but the fact remained that it was wrong to pursue. As if the inherent uncertainty of the case wasn’t troubling enough, their irresponsibility deepened his worry lines.
He closed the window just as Aizawa started walking towards him, extra donut in hand. It was raspberry-glazed, his favorite, but he couldn’t manage his usual level of enthusiasm. He tried to smile as he accepted the treat, but the image of their misdeed burned in his mind, a fresh imprint that roiled in his stomach.
“So did you find them?”
He nodded, taking a large bite and chewing his mouthful slowly so he might have some time to think.
“They’re, uh, taking a nap.”
“A nap?” Aizawa asked in disbelief. “They’d work through their breaks if the Chief weren’t around to force them to take a breather.”
“I think Raito-san mentioned he was feeling under the weather earlier,” Mogi shrugged, pushing down the nervous laughter bubbling up in his chest. There was no erasing what had happened, and no one would benefit from the bedlam the truth would bring with it. “You know, if you work through a cold it’ll come back bad enough to knock you out of commission for a week.”
“Don’t I know it,” Aizawa sighed. “Kid’s got the right idea, I guess.”
“He often does,” Soichiro said fondly.
“You should probably text one of them,” Light panted. “Tell them we’re resting or something.”
They’d made an effort to clean up the evidence of their hallway liaison, and some 20 minutes later had found their way into one of the many spare beds L had set aside.
“Raito-kun is full of good ideas today,” L teased. He rocked Light in his lap, the vice-tight suction of his body eased into pliability with slick and persistence.
Light hummed his agreement, rolling his hips with a deliberate slowness.
“Lest we forget it was your idea that led us here. If they only knew the kind of filth you’re thinking when you’re not calculating percentages... You really are a pervert.”
He lifted L’s hand to his face, wrapping his lips around one of his fingers. He moaned around the digit, tongue swirling suggestively as his hips rocked faster.
L huffed beneath him, abdomen tensing as he tried to stave off his orgasm.
Light leaned back on his arms leisurely, drawing his legs back and his knees together to give him a clear view of where their bodies were connected. The point of penetration was messy-wet and slippery, the evidence of their first coupling dripping from Light with every thrust.
“I’m already so full of you, but I think I can take more. Do you wanna give it to me, L?”
L’s jaw clenched as he held his breath, cock throbbing as he watched Light rise and sink down on him, his hole like a hot, plush cunt around his shaft.
Light moved off of him abruptly, letting L’s length slip out of him and forcing him up. He laid back on the bed, legs splayed enticingly in an open invitation.
“Go on then, give it to me.”
L took his place, hovering over him as he pushed Light’s knees to his chest, exposing the molten core of him. He pressed three of his fingers in at once, delighting in Light’s gasp and marveling at the openness of him.
Pink-faced beneath him, his damp hair stuck to his forehead, the sheen of sweat on his skin like an opalescent finish on some whorish display, a study in debauchery. L gripped himself in hand, stroking at the sight of him, disarming in its honesty. He rubbed the crown over his cleft, sinking inside him again, hips pistoning with renewed purpose.
“Ahh, I need-“
“I know what you need,” L said, pushing Light’s knees up higher, bending him in half as he plunged deep. He pinned Light’s arms above his head, nipping at his ear. “And it’s already yours.”
Light keened his approval, wrapping his legs around L’s torso, a question burning in his throat. “Are you?”
“I’ve damned myself for something, haven’t I?”
Their open mouths met in a slick slide as their pleasure began to crest, Light breaking the kiss with a moan as L grabbed hold of his dick between them, stroking in earnest.
“Come inside me again,” Light husked, and there was power in the command, a raw courage in the unadorned order.
His expression tightened as L fucked him harder, hole fluttering as another round spilled within him.
Rejoining the Task Force without fuss quickly proved to be an exercise in futility.
“Hey, there they are,” Aizawa said, stopping short as he scanned Light. “Woah, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look too good.”
“He’s right, you look flushed. You both do,” Soichiro said. He walked over, putting a hand to Light’s forehead before tutting disapprovingly. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
The comment only served to make the pink spread to the tips of his ears. L nibbled his thumb next to him, and if he was concerned it was wholly undetectable.
“The Chief is right! Maybe you guys should take the day off,” Matsuda chimed in.
“For once, I agree,” Aizawa added.
Through the outpour of concern, Mogi offered silence, and it was louder to their ears than all the other voices combined.