Chapter Text
The time is 2:37 a.m.
You’re floating somewhere between sleep and awake, the rain pelting against your window a gentle drum that gradually lulls you toward unconsciousness.
Then, as though materialized from thin air, a shift of weight on the edge of your bed pulls you back to a state of groggy awareness, and you don’t need to look to know who it is. The alluring scent of cedar, sugar and a distinct cleanliness has you instinctively tense. He moves so quietly you didn’t realize he had entered your bedroom to begin with.
You realize, even in your sleep-muddled state, that moving might deter him. How badly you wish to acknowledge his presence is pushed aside, and you continue to lie still, waiting for him to do something as your breath shudders from your lips. He’s never sought you out before, not like this...the only time you’ve shared a bed was when you lured him in.
And even then, he didn’t stay.
However fond of you he is, he made it abundantly clear that his work is paramount. You understand, of course you do. Taking his time, for even a night, felt as though you were robbing the world. But this is an anomaly. This is him coming to you, shirking his priorities in favor of you.
To pass up such an opportunity would be asinine.
Laying on your side, you risk opening your eyes just enough to peek, catching sight of the dim, glow-like presence of his white shirt. He’s sitting beside you in his usual posture, knees drawn up to his chest, and as your eyes adjust, you can make out the way he chews on his thumbnail as he watches you.
He’s contemplating something. Given his presence in your bedroom at such an hour, and with you ostensibly asleep, it’s not hard to come to the conclusion of what. He’s contemplating touching you. The notion makes your stomach swoop, your knees innately pressing together in search of pressure.
You play off the motion with a shift of your body, rolling on to your back while smoothly kicking the comforter down enough to expose your stomach, your shirt bunched up beneath your breasts. The air is cool, but every inch of your skin prickles with heat knowing he’s watching you.
He breathes in a quiet, sharp gasp.
It takes a conscious effort to be alluring while also feigning sleep, but you attempt to anyways. Him being here in the first place means he’s conflicted, that much is clear. Pushing him to act on those foreign urges requires a level of subtlety, otherwise he might run...beyond the logic, you know you're simply not brave enough to break the silence, the illusion, first.
“You’re awake.” L states, just above a whisper.
Your heart skips at being caught...of course he can see right through your unconscious façade; in fact, you were counting on it.
Opening your eyes, you peer at him through the dark.
“I am, now.” You whisper, reaching past the nervousness to grasp something almost playful.
“I apologize...It was rude of me to wake you up like this.” L begins, uncertainty nearly warbling his usually level tone. “I’ll be going, now.”
He starts to move from his inert crouch, and you react in the span of an instant, a soft kind of panic making you reach out to grasp the fabric of his sleeve. You don't want this moment to slip through your fingers; it's rare, ephemeral.
“Wait, L.” He stops, his dark eyes boring into you with a vacancy that is anything but. “Stay...please.”
A palpable moment passes. He’s considering it. You decide to play devils advocate.
“You came here for a reason, didn’t you?” You tread carefully, grip loosening on his shirt enough to allow him the notion of choice. “You’ve never come to me, first. I...I don’t know what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours, but I know you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
L’s dark eyes cut from yours, to your hand. Slowly, as though feeling for the first time, he maneuvers his hand to touch your forearm. His fingers are cold, lightly skimming along your exposed skin down to your wrist.
“You’re impressively perceptive, as always.” He muses quietly. “I find myself unable to focus as of late. Actually... I suppose that’s not entirely true.”
He threads his spindly fingers through yours, bringing your hand up toward his face. Your heart is thumping anxiously against your sternum as you watch him, vision since adjusted to the dark. He’s gaze is lowered to an uncharacteristic half-mast.
“I’ve only been capable of focusing on one subject, in particular.”
“How troublesome...’the great L’, incapable of multitasking.” You breathe, caught by the way he brushes his lips against the back of your hand.
Then, so sharp and pointed it makes your heart leap, his gaze flicks to you from beneath his lashes. His lips graze the back of your hand as he whispers, almost accusingly.
“Indeed...although, to say you’ve got the worlds greatest detective completely rapt is quite the achievement.”
Your heart stutters at that, a palpable tension curling in the air between you two. He’s never declared his feelings so candidly before. This moment is just as profound for him as it is for you, and focusing on it could very well overwhelm him. L’s always been a man to appreciate tact, so you continue carefully.
“I...I see. I’d apologize for stealing your attention, but quite frankly I’m not sorry in the slightest.” The tremor in your voice is telling, but neither of you openly acknowledge it.
Instead, L smiles. It’s a small curl of his lips, hidden behind your clasped hands, but you notice it in his eyes.
“Contrition is reserved for the erroneous...I’d like to think I’m never wrong. Should that ideology extend to...this...then I think I’ve made the right decision coming here tonight.”
“You’re not the world’s greatest for nothing.” You encourage him softly, “Problem solving is simply the way you function.”
“Yes...very apt.” He sounds listless, but the way he gently squeezes your hand says otherwise; like he’s gathering his bearings. “My current problem is this: six days ago, we engaged in sexual relations. Aside from the very obvious conflict of interest within our workplace, potential consequence, and my own lack of finesse at the time...I find myself thinking back on that night regularly.”
Him bringing up that night so bluntly is surprising to you, but when you really think about it, what other way would he have brought it up? He’s a forward person, so exceedingly so he’s off-putting at times...it’s contradictive, in that he appreciates subtly with these matters...but contradiction is human, and no matter how brilliant L is, he is still human.
Which brings you to this.
“It was...pleasant.” With your hands still clasped, he nudges his upper lip with his thumb. “I initially allowed myself a single day to enjoy those memories. Any longer would be a distraction. But, as time progressed, I realized that a single day was simply not enough time to reflect. Upon accepting that...I’ve come to the conclusion that a single night with you is not enough, either.”
You swallow thickly. “And the solution to your problem?”
“Ideally, the solution would be to forget about that night all together.” He’s quick to reply, his tone factual.
Your breath catches in your throat, hanging onto his words anxiously.
“However, erasing my memories is out of the question...as is forgetting that night.” He continues on, leaning further into himself, thinking aloud. “Which leaves one option: to relive the events of that night on a routine basis, under controlled conditions. It may seem counter-intuitive, but I believe -”
“L.”
He perks up slightly, “Hm?”
“Would you kiss me already?” You dare.
Luckily for you, L appreciates courage as much as tact.
He shifts, tucking his knees beneath him with your hands still clasped together beside your head. Leaning over you, he brings himself close enough that his hair tickles your cheeks and you can feel his warm breath on your lips.
“To clarify...I don’t consider you a problem.” He breathes.
You smile, feeling giddy anticipation as you tilt your head slightly back.
“Likewise.”
And then he kisses you.
It’s a gentle caress; soft, warm lips pressing against yours in the darkness of your bedroom. You keep your eyes open long enough to watch him close his.
Memories, sensations of before come back to you with startling clarity: the way he tasted, the way his slender body fit so well with your own, the soft, barely audible moans he gave. Rain patters in the background the same way it did six nights ago.
As he gently presses his mouth against yours in a series of chaste kisses, you're reminded that you couldn't let that night go, either. It’s seared behind your eyelids, a wanton dream that replays every night, and you yearned under the guise of understanding for what felt like eons. Days can feel like years when you're carrying the weight of longing, and being so close to him, knowing how he feels, how he sounds...yeah, you were never truly content with it being a one-off instance.
And neither was he.
Your heart is soaring, blood singing an excited, pulsating rhythm in your veins.
L remains beside you, seemingly hesitant to move any closer, and you’re on the verge of simply grabbing him and tugging him on top of you when his other hand moves. Threading his fingers through your hair, he grips just enough to angle your head further into the pillow. The sensation sends a prickling wave of goosebumps across your skin, the forwardness of it surprising you with a little squeak—and then the smooth, seamless glide of his tongue along your lips makes you gasp, and suddenly he’s licking hungrily into your mouth.
Your own hand finds the mass of his hair through instinct, thick and soft between your fingers, and in an echo of his prior action, you tug just enough to earn a noise; a low, vibrating hum that makes your stomach clench wildly.
When he pulls away, you think you might’ve done something wrong—or perhaps the thought of his touch leaving you is that devastating—but he’s quick to dip back in, as though he too can't fathom this electric embrace ending. Kissing the corner of your mouth, he trails downwards to the cusp of your jaw, giving another small tug of your hair. You follow his guidance eagerly, angling your head back, clutching his hair desperately as he leaves a tingling trail down your throat.
“There was one particular segment of that night that I consistently relive.” L informs you lowly, his voice vibrating against your skin.
“Mmm...what’s that?” You hum, dazed.
“Your moans.” He breathes, nuzzling his face against the junction of your neck and shoulder.
Gently, as though afraid he’ll hurt you—but with the intent to elicit noise, L bites down. Your body tenses at the feeling, gripping him tighter as shockwaves of static sensation flood your senses.
“Ahh...”
It lances a jolt of arousal straight down to your core, has your knees rubbing together beside him.
As he soothes the bite with gentle laps of his tongue, you tug your lower lip between your teeth and give a pleading whine. The desire to feel him, all of him, is slowly consuming you. L, picking up on your desperation, pulls away, hovering over you with wide-eyed curiosity.
“Are you alright? I conducted research on points of pleasure...this spot was among the ones repeatedly listed.”
You quickly nod your head, “Yes. Yes, you’re right, that is pleasurable...but I...I’d like to see what else you researched.”
“Of course. You are, after all, the reason for it. It would be a waste not to show you.”
You raise your brows in surprise, but before you can counter with something witty, L leans down once more. He wastes no time on the second go, opting for an open mouthed kiss that steals your breath. As you savor the sweetness of him, he moves closer.
One slender hand finds a place on your stomach. He’s cold, a shiver rattling you as he smooths that hand lower towards the apex of your hips.
“Is this alright?” He murmurs.
“Yes,” you sigh, your legs falling open in clear indication. “Please, touch me.”
His breath has since picked up, excitement seeping through the cracks of his stoic disposition. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” The tips of his fingers slip past the elastic of your underwear.
You highly doubt you’d do such a thing, but you nod eagerly regardless. L shifts once more, bringing himself close enough that you feel the coarseness of his jeans brush against your arm. Bending himself over you once more, he attacks the column of your throat with a plethora of soft nips and gentle suction.
You desperately want to feel the weight of him between your legs, the sharpness of his hipbones that left you bruised nearly a week ago, but you know pushing him could very well shatter this moment.
As his fingers ghost over your mound, you buck your hips and give a piteous whine. His touch is featherlight; slipping one long finger between your wetness, he circles your clit once and dips lower, teasing you before retreating to do it again. You moan shakily at the feeling, curling the fingers of your free hand into your pillow.
L continues at his leisure, sitting back to execute a torturous exploration of your womanhood that is divine and scarce all at once. You’re squirming under his meticulous movements, rolling your hips each time he dips his finger to your entrance.
“Oh...Oh, please...” You sound delirious, your heavy gaze peering down your stomach, watching. Your face feels red hot, and you hardly notice it when he frees his hand from your grasp.
“Although I’ve prepared for this, I believe constructive criticism would be helpful.” L remarks, his own voice breathless. “Is this what you want?”
Then, to add emphasis to what you can only consider a smug question, L pushes two fingers inside you, slowly sinking to the knuckles before curling them against your inner wall.
You clench around the digits. His breath shudders.
“Hnnn...y-yes, yes -” you gasp, your back arching slightly from the bed.
Laying his other hand palm flat against your lower stomach, he presses down gently as he repeats the motion, massaging your g-spot directly and relentlessly.
The concept of L being cocky in this situation calls for some sort of commentary, but as he develops a surprisingly dexterous pace of thrusting his fingers, curling them, and repeating, you find you simply don’t have the means.
Whatever remark you did have dies on the tip of your tongue, your voice streamlining into a staccato of whimpering moans when he stretches his thumb down to press against your clit.
You’re going to cum.
“L...L, I’m g-going to...ah -”
And then he stops.
The whine that escapes you is strangled, frustrated, broken. He slips his fingers out, you watch how he spreads them inquisitively, your arousal glistening in the dark. It’s insanely hot, but you’re too flabbergasted at being edged by him to truly appreciate it.
“I would like to use my mouth, if you’re comfortable with it.” L declares. You clench around nothing, the implication of his words seizing you.
“You don’t...you don’t have to.” You breathe, daring to finally look up at him.
His eyes, already so dark, are somehow even more so as he stares down at you with an intensity you’ve never been subject to.
“I want to.”
You squirm, feeling exposed and suddenly very, very bashful.
L’s sitting on the floor at the edge of the bed, forgoing his usual stature in favor of his knees. Raising your hips, you allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, leaving you in just your shirt.
He says nothing as he gathers your legs in his hands, splaying you while his eyes take in the sight before him. Peering down your stuttering chest, you resist the urge to snap your knees together at his unflinching gaze.
“You’re very wet.” He states.
“How very astute, L.” You attempt to joke, blushing wildly, but all sense of humor leaves you when L, without hesitation, pushes your thighs upwards and leans in.
A startled squeak escapes you, the sound quickly narrowing into a shaken whine as he licks a brazen stripe from your entrance to your clit. Then, as though he is discerning whether it’s to his liking or not, he draws back and swipes his tongue over his lower lip.
You’re burning up, anticipating some sort of analytical commentary, but instead he simply dives back in. Another surprised noise quickly morphs into wanton mewls.
Repeating his earlier action, he applies more pressure against your clit before languidly circling it, his long fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs as he pushes your knees even higher.
You hardly have the sense to acknowledge what’s happening - L is currently lapping you up like you’re as sweet as candy - when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. You jolt, pushing back against his surprisingly strong grip.
“Mmm - L!” You moan, your hands flying down to grasp at his hair. He hums against you, as though acknowledging you, and continues undeterred.
The ceiling of your bedroom is a poor substitute for the image between your thighs, but as you writhe and clutch at his hair, you can’t seem to find the courage to look down.
You’d come undone, just like that...and the way he’s making you feel right now, you never want it to end.
You can feel his heavy breath against you, the finesse of his tongue spreading you, pressing against you in all the right places. Pleasure arcs through your body like electricity, igniting your nerves with the threat to consume you whole.
The tension of your left leg gives way, your knee moving to rest on his hard shoulder as he brings his mouth to a focus point on your clit. He’s panting through his nose, flicking his tongue against the swollen bud full tilt when he masterfully slips two fingers inside you and curls them, exactly as he did before.
You’re so close it aches; your toes curl, your legs quiver, hips absently rocking against his mouth as sharp, desperate moans spill from your lips. In your pleasure induced haze, you glance down your heaving torso.
He’s already staring right at you.
Fuck.
“L...L...oh, oh my god!”
You spasm, your thighs closing around his head against your volition. Your grip on his hair is certainly searing, but L doesn’t seem to mind, if the low, throaty moan he gives is any indication. You come undone, struck with a force of pleasure so potent your entire body is rattled.
Your orgasm lingers, like residual scintillas coursing through your veins, and L doesn’t let it subside easily. He keeps going, pushing your right leg further from his head as he doubles down on his movements; curling and thrusting his fingers, lapping at your oversensitive clit enthusiastically.
The noise that leaves your throat is broken and pleading, as though you’re unsure if you want him to continue, or never stop. With your hips jerking away from him, only to push back, you’re riding the cusp of a second orgasm so close to the first it nearly hurts.
Incoherent pleas tumble past your lips, his name repeated within it like a subliminal mantra. Your vision is bleary, fogged with tears as you gaze downward.
The look in his eyes...it’s intense, so dark and determined, and it’s that look that has you crumble to pieces all over again. With your body pulled painfully taut under his touch, you suddenly unravel with a blissed out cry of his name.
Everything is weightless. You sink back into the bed with a shuddering exhale, your grip loosening on his hair as he licks tenderly between your quivering thighs. With a knowing gentleness, he slips his fingers out of you and draws back onto his haunches.
“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice hushed and hoarse.
Are you alright? He just took you to fucking heaven and back and he’s asking if you’re alright? You can’t help but giggle a little bit, your head muggy with the afterglow of what was, definitely, the best orgasm of your life.
“Never underestimate the power of research.” You comment, lethargically.
L gives a soft laugh, and you shift and look down at him. He’s wiping his mouth on his sleeve, lips curved into a cute smile.
“Would you...would you like it if I returned the favor?” You ask, falling back into that unimposing headspace. Although, you’re not sure how he could feel pressured after doing what he just did.
L shakes his head, “That’s quite alright. I was intent on testing all my research...if that is acceptable.” He looks up at you, thick strands of hair falling over his eyes, darkening them further.
You swallow thickly, feeling the heat within you rise from just his gaze alone.
“I’d never condemn the pursuit of knowledge, L.”