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Untitled L/Light Shower Project

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Problem Number One is that L does not stand up, ever - L crouches when he is eating, when he is watching the surveillance feed, when he seems to be sleeping but those who know him know that his mind is working faster than ever. And when L crouches in the shower, it puts his head directly in front of Light's crotch.

Problem Number Two is that the flooring is slick and L, for some reason, loses all sense of balance once inside.

Sometimes, Light thinks he drops the soap on purpose.

And from there, it just takes a bit of a tip - one mis-slide on the tiles - and Light's cock is suddenly inside L's mouth. L's eyes seem eternally startled, but Light knows better than to believe the looks of mock-surprise that are lifted to him then.

And then it doesn't matter anymore, because L's tongue is slithering along his cock, over skin not yet touched by soap; saliva mingling with water in a gush that ought to be sickening but is somehow so good that it just.

Doesn't.

Matter.

He wonders if Misa suspects. Surely, she must - virile young men, naked and wet, alone - together. All the times she has levied the accusation that L is a pervert - is she really so self-centered that the notion of those perversions lying elsewhere is beyond her? What would she think if her suspicions were confirmed - would she abandon her obsessions, go for L's throat? Or would she perhaps want to join them - and find the steam-fogged door closed in her face?

Oh, how she would scream.

But it is Light who is screaming, Light who is gasping; Light who is arching to force his shaft deeper into L's throat, and damn the wet rasp that is heard for it - choke on it, choke on it and die, and end this charade of goodness and justice and male bondage bonding. If the pen on the note is mighter than the sword, then what is the penis?

He wonders if this is what is would be like to fuck a shinigami, if shinigami could fuck - his eyes have made their way back to L's; L's, with their staring whites and their consuming shadows, like the wide-not-yet-closed eyes of the dead.

His hips buck and crash into L's face, and then there is more white; seed spurting into L's throat, onto his lips, onto his cheeks - mixing with the water to course down like sickly tears.

At least it will be easy to clean up.


Author's Notes: Written for Porn Battle Round Three @ IJ. The prompt was Death Note, Light/L, missing handcuff scene #242 (just how do you shower?).