Disclaimer: Characters and affiliated material belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No profit is made off this.

A more sexually explicit version of this story can be found in Archive of our Own under the penname Tarshil.

Chapter One: A Taste to Remember

Light would wonder for the rest of his life at how abruptly the tides had turned against him. Every piece had been in its calculated position. Despite having known nothing but an endless line of victories and reverence most of his life, it brought Light incomparable joy to see a perfectly executed plan of his design unfold on its own. And the taste of its fruit would have been the sweetest because his opponent this time would be his greatest and most formidable challenger.

Where did it go wrong? What piece had been wrongly placed? Higuchi was dead, Misa continued to kill, and Rem would not betray anything that would endanger Misa. L was blissfully ignorant of being checked and when he finally figured it out it would be too late. That had been the plan; his strategy from the very beginning, restrained tautly in his sling and ready to unleash a volley of attacks upon the fake Kira's death against all that stood in his way: Rem, Watari, L, and eventually Misa. The strategy should have been absolute, without error.

"Light Yagami, you are under arrest." The hoarse, broken voice of his father broke the silence which had pervaded the air right before Light's world came apart. Soichiro looked at his son without making eye contact. His mixed expression of weariness and rage on his haggard face left Light in near stupor.

Numbly, Light felt rough and surprisingly cold hands take his wrists and snap them into handcuffs so tight they bit painfully into the flesh. The AC was especially chilly; the grayness of the spacious room and the white lights glaring overhead from the high ceiling of the investigation room seemed to augment the cold dread coiling in his stomach.

"Dad?"

"For the murder of hundreds—including several FBI agents."

"Listen to me..."

"And the extortion of government officials, as well as police officers-"

"Dad! Please!"

"Don't call me that. You are no longer my son."

No, don't say that! His father was always the first to listen to him. "Dad, please listen, this must be a mistake!" He refused to believe his last resort was abandoning him. The man who always believed him.

"Don't call me that!"

Even having killed hundreds of men, his childish heart leaped in desperation at the thought of being abandoned by his father. Angry that Soichiro was no longer in his power, he lunged towards him, but he was constrained by several strong arms. Someone quickly forced him to the ground on his stomach with one hand pressed to his head, keeping the side of his face crushed against the cold floor.

"How could you," Matsuda asked shakily with a knee jabbing painfully between Light's shoulder blades.

"Lock him up immediately," L said.

As Light was roughly brought to his feet, he shot a quick glance at the most detestable man alive, whose slouched form dangled Light's watch between his fingers triumphantly. He was shoved forward, away from the investigation headquarters. "Kira has finally been brought to justice," he heard L say before the door closed behind him. Aizawa and Matsuda dragged his uncooperative form to his cell.

Light had erred in keeping the piece of Death Note with Higuchi's name in his watch after the deed was done. Without it, L would have had no physical proof; merely the testimony of a shinigami, a source no one would believe in court or the media. But now they did have hard evidence. The whole world had seen Higuchi's sudden death by heart attack; they knew he had been Kira—or a substitute. And Light's watch connected the dots.

Even as the world crashed around him and he panicked, Light refused to admit defeat.

Later that night, in his small, dark, windowless cell, he remained sitting on the hard cot in the same position they put him in. He still had a trump card: Misa. If he knew her well, he could guess what her next move was. Rem had ratted him out in vain and soon enough the wretched bitch would understand her mistake.

His blood thrummed like war drums in his veins. Light could not stop his overactive imagination from running wild, scenarios of death playing a macabre movie in his head. A few hours later when his adrenaline was fully exhausted and left him fatigued with strange, numb peace, he finally dozed off.

Light was roused by the soft groan of door hinges announcing someone into the cell, though it was too dark to see anything. Light sat up and his breath seemed to pause in anticipation. The metal door was closed and locked with a firm click.

"Who's there?" he breathed.

A faint shadow drew near and loomed over him, the eerie silence only broken by the sound of a man's soft breath. "It's ironic, Light," said L.

"What do you want?"

"After Higuchi, I was truly beginning to think you were innocent. That perhaps Kira was far more clever than you and I and had distracted me by using you. Well, I wasn't that far off. You are truly one hell of an actor, Light." There was a regretful tone underlining L's trademark drawl.

"You sound disappointed."

"Almost. I said I was only beginning to think you were innocent. I still had suspicions."

"Did you think we could be friends if I was innocent?"

When L remained silent for too long, Light scoffed, already wiser to the answer. "What are you doing here?"

He received no answer but was surprised when L pressed his solid, wiry body to him. L was thin but rock hard and Light felt the adamantine ripples beneath a thin shirt as L's torso lay firmly over his. Although both men shared similar girths, Light had more fat on him and weighed a bit more than L. Their strength was matched, though, admittedly, L was quicker. Still, Light could have had a chance to dislodge the man if his hands weren't handcuffed and pinned under the small of his back, sending burning jolts up his twisted limbs.

L never played by the rules. His methods to gain what he wanted were unfair and questionable, but this was going too far.

"What do you think you're doing," Light growled.

Abruptly, he cried in surprise and shivered as teeth firmly trapped the soft flesh of the bottom of his earlobe. A velvety, wet muscle glossed over the sensitive skin over his jugular. His eyes widened in disbelief when he realized what L was doing. That was when Light really began to thrash and fight back. A strong limb wrapped around his chest and arm while a palm covered his mouth.

"All cameras are shut off. The walls of this building are soundproof."

Light's violent flailing managed to bring his lips close enough to the side of L's hand for him to clamp his teeth around a bony digit. The detective only let out a soft, restrained groan, removing his hand from Light's mouth. His efforts proved futile and soon Light felt his lips sting as they were assaulted by L's mouth and tongue, the taste of whiskey hard in his mouth. Since when did L drink, thought Light whiel trying to keep calm. A pair of sinewy arms circled him. Firm, narrow hips between his legs rendered him incapable of landing a kick.

The night was surreal. The shadowy body above him was like an intangible nightmare that Light's mind could not grasp. Moaning and gasping desperately into the older man's face, Light tried to turn his head away. Everything swirled unrealistically. In the darkness, it was like he was drowning in black water, unable to breathe and unable to know which way was up or down.

Suddenly L stopped and propped his upper body on his elbows, cupping Light's face in his warm hands almost tenderly. Lips ghosted over his own, whispering harsh, drunk words in a tone that should have held a lover's hums of adoration. "I hate you."

Light did not know what to make of it. The way L said it made Light wonder if the man had finally cracked after a long time of self-repression. Had L always wanted to physically hurt Kira, who unwaveringly defied him and those government laws that structured his power and wealth? His profession would have compelled him to keep his hand back past this line, his primitive urges moored to logic and reason.

Or was what L had tried to imprison within himself something more forbidden? Had L always wanted to touch Light this way? The thought made him shudder. It was too unnerving to think about.

"And I loathe you," Light answered, his voice on the precipice of breaking as he kept in under control with sheer willpower. Light's lips were so close to L's that they caressed lightly. L's lips were horribly dry, he noted absently. "But, you don't see me trying to get into your pants. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Fingers suddenly wrapped around his throat again, pressing hard enough to cause discomfort yet allowing him to gasp for breath. "I don't know," was the cryptic answer.

To Light it meant nothing and he began to thrash again, trying to knee L off him—even though it really wouldn't accomplish much else than provoke whatever madness had possessed L. He was locked here, in a maze of a building only L knew how to navigate and where L reigned. His cell was locked, engulfed by darkness, and his arms were secured tightly behind him. Where could Light go, even if he managed to dislodge the man?

"So much for justice," he gasped as rough fingers tightened around his neck, "I can't do...anything...to defend myself...you force your twisted desires on me...you coward."

Thwack! He gasped sharply. His cheek stung horribly from the slap but L had loosened his grip on his neck at least.

"Is that right," L jeered, his voice steady as always but lined with cold anger. "And what would you know of justice, Kira? You still maintain that what you did was just, yet what you are going through now - is it not exactly what your victims felt? What could they have done to defend themselves?"

"They were criminals! They did the same to innocent people and got a taste of their own medicine!"

"And so will you."

"Let me go. I will tell the authorities. You still answer to laws greater than you, L," he spat the alias, emphasizing with scorn what it was supposed to stand for.

"And who is going to believe you? You deceive and ridicule governments and then expect them to trust what you say, or even care? You are still so naïve. What does a pampered child know about the world?" L snorted in derision. "But you still thought you could manipulate everyone."

Light laughed. "You say that now because of that damned shinigami, otherwise you'd be dead. Doesn't that just grate your pride? I'm here not because you were better than me—you were just lucky."

The only thing he received in response was more pressure around his neck so that he sputtered and choked in his laughter. L smashed his lips to Light's, who moaned in surprise and pain as his lips were torn by teeth. A snake-like tongue ventured deep into his mouth, shutting him up good and proper. Tears he could not hold back trickled down his temples and moistened his flushed, throbbing ears. Light made a futile attempt to shake his head out of the grip, hair plastered against his sweaty face. The top buttons of his dress shirt were quickly undone.

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Light. This would be the last moment they had together: Kira and L. No one would ever match the greatest detective of all time the way Light had, but L's victory left the older man empty because Light refused to acknowledge it. And if Light was not forced to acknowledge L's victory now, he never would.

Light grinned maniacally. He wants to conquer me completely, but he knows he can't, he thought. Everyone eventually sees L's way, but not me. And just like that, the world's greatest mind was reduced to a neanderthal using sex as a weapon of domination.

At this, Light laughed. "You think that doing this to me will make you feel better, L? Have you ran out of clever bullshit to argue with so you turn to rape to make me submit to you? You're pathetic."

One hand on his neck, another on his bare chest, lips lightly caressing his chin, where hot, heavy breath tickled the wet skin—every movement stilled. Light was taken aback when L got off him abruptly; all that tangible heat was suddenly gone. He felt bereft of something he could not put his finger on.

"You're correct, as always," L said softly. "I won't become like you. I can get bored, I can desire what I can't have, but justice comes before all that. I won't be like you," he repeated, sounding on the verge of breaking before Light heard his soft footsteps turn away. The door groaned softly, clicked shut, and everything was once again silent, cold, and dark.

The heavy rain pounded on Misa's windows, shadows of her lavishly Gothic décor flickered and danced over her dark red walls from the candlelight illuminating the dim room. The romanticism gave her task as the second Kira a sense of importance and sensuality, and everything about Light was important and sensual.

But that job today had suddenly been put to a halt. Now she truly felt the dark gloom of the day settle in her chest as she scurried about her bedroom, packing the essentials in a small backpack. The police would be banging on her door any moment. Rem felt that at least she owed her that warning.

Misa wasn't stupid. She had prepared for this moment. She knew what she had gotten herself into the minute she chose to follow her parents' avenger to the end.

She hadn't cared then. She didn't care now.

And though one as cold as Light might view her actions for love to be stupid—driven by whimsical emotion—Misa knew that more stupid would have been to live a life that held no meaning to her. Her parents had chosen the easy life. They had been happy and expecting to grow old together when one night, on a walk through the streets like any other, they were murdered.

So what did choosing an easy life mean if it could end shortly anyway? Might as well court danger; bite the forbidden fruit and chase what she wanted most, even to death and hell. Deal with a reaper and cut her life shorter and shorter—at least it would have been a life that she could cherish in her last moments. Let her last memories be that of a pleased and content lover; the joyful smile of the most beautiful and intelligent man that had graced this putrid world.

Misa wasn't stupid. She was well prepared, not ruled by whimsical emotion, like one as cold as Light might think. But if it made him happy to think so, then Misa would never argue with him.

Now Rem, the one she trusted most, changed all that. Light would die a miserable death in exchange for Misa's life—a life to be confined in house arrest for the rest of it. And because she was human, she would die one day anyway, with memories of long years of solitude and failure that had been bargained in exchange for her loved one's life: the one thing that had brought closure to her pain after her parents' deaths.

She would rather slit her own throat than to let that happen.

What's the point of living like that, Rem? How could you betray me like this?

Misa wept as she packed the Death Note. The male shinigami, Ryuk, cackled delightedly in a dark corner. "I always said it isn't very smart to get mixed up with humans."

"Rem," Misa said shakily, "The people transporting him…you are t-to write their names…" Misa forced herself to utter her instructions. She had planned this in case Light had been caught.

Light had been willing to sacrifice the people he loved should they become hindrances, so Misa thought it only fair to sacrifice her only friend if the shinigami stood in Light's way. She had prayed for this day to never come but…

Light's future was the only one always on her mind. And she had it all perfectly planned.

Sleep had evaded him. Before he knew it there were a few hours left before dawn when he would be escorted to prison to await his trial. It would be quick. L would make sure of that. Governments fear him enough to make sure of it themselves. And his execution would follow soon after. Whatever upper hand Light thought he had gotten over L hours before, seemed stupid as the crushing fear of death overtook him and planted doubts in Misa of being any help. Maybe they already arrested her?

Nothing L felt now could compare to Light's terror. He shivered, swallowing a lump of nervous saliva. He could not bear the prospect of just… being no more. Death was too unreal; it wasn't for him. He could not die. Ever.

L had come again; this time sober. Light could not see him, but he could feel the cold calm within him.

In his locked cell, L stood silently, not uttering a word about his intentions. Light sat on the hard cot. He could make out the very obscure outline of the man's slouched form. The tension stifled his breath. Light felt like any minute his hold on his nerves would shatter and he would scream at L, ask him what the hell he wanted.

A loud, pained breath escaped him and just as he was about to raise his voice, L spoke, "I pity you deeply, Light-kun."

He did scream then, a nice resounding, "Go to hell!" Too tired, angry and scared to come up with anything else.

"But," L continued, completely ignoring his outburst, "But I pity myself more."

He heard L lightly advance on him. L's sudden meekness contrasted painfully to his aggression only hours before. Light preferred the animal than this humbled, wretched adaptation of his opponent. An attack he could deal with, a challenge he would take…but this miserable confession was like nails tearing at his flesh.

"I curse you." Light felt his eyes grow hot but he refused to break in front of his mortal enemy.

"That you have already done, Light-kun," L retorted calmly. "My question is why did you choose this? For once in my entire career, I was willing to break my own rules and overlook your past crimes...because I thought during the time you were with me, you'd changed. I made a grave error in judgment. Not only did you murder a man while I was sitting next to you, but you planned on having me and Watari killed…by manipulating a shinigami—a sentient being—to sacrifice her life. That is beyond criminality, Light-kun. That is pure evil."

He had to laugh then. For a man who built himself on logic, L's words lacked it

"L, spare me your sermons. What do you want now? An answer to that silly question? Well, …it was my goal long before I even knew of your existence: to rid this world of rot. I'd be stupid to give it up just because we spent time together. A man as ambitious as you should understand this."

"I understand there are limits to what an ambitious man has the right to do."

"Behave as if playing chess on ice…hadn't you said these exact words? Did I not play this game fairly, according to your rule? But now you're saying you would have broken your own rules - and the task force's trust in you - all for me? You grow more pathetic, L."

There was a long, aching silence where Light's stomach wouldn't cease to jump and clench terribly. This tight feeling urged him to get up, hit something, stomp and yell childishly that nothing was fair. Of course, he suppressed it expertly, however much it hurt.

"I won't deny," L finally said, "that you are right about that."

Light snorted. "Spare me this bullshit already. What do you want?"

"What I can't have, apparently. But, maybe…"

What is up with L? he thought. Those demented, cryptic mumbles only agitated Light further.

He heard L's footsteps come closer until he could feel L's heat in front of him. A warm palm pressed itself against the side of his cold face. Light flinched, hackles rising at the prospect of another attack.

"I'll ask this time. I've wanted you for the longest, Light. I know I can't have you but..."

Light's heart beat frantically. He never expected this.

L continued, "May I have a taste to remember?"

Lips brushed against his. Light tried to pull away but the hand on his face held him firm.

"Do you understand that this is the last time we will see each other, Light? This is goodbye."

And the words sunk in hard, but Light didn't have time to analyze his reaction. L's lips pressed more firmly and this time Light allowed him in, feeling oddly shaken and distressed. Their lips pressed roughly together, soft flesh bruising, their tongues sparked intensely, velvety and wet, firm and so very hot. Light relinquished all pretenses for just that single moment, their last moment. He could almost forget the terrible finality of the situation he was in.

Light would berate himself later. Allowing this man, whom he both admired and hated, to touch him so intimately, to expose his vulnerability without a fight was terrifying. Yet it was delicious. Light might have had his hands cuffed behind his back, and the finality of L's visit might have shaken him, but he was not utterly giving up his control. Not completely. Never all the way. He wanted something and L had no choice but to give it now that he started this. He detached himself from L's mouth, breathing hard with the older man's breath warming his cold face.

"Touch me," he commanded.

L obliged without any hesitation. He unbuttoned the rest of Light's shirt and hands spread wide with what seemed like the attentiveness of a devotee began to feel the quickly flushing skin beneath. L knead and caressed up the abdomen to his chest. Those hands were surprisingly calloused, but Light remembered L admitting that he was not a mere armchair detective, and had implied that he had lived a great deal of the unimaginable.

There was still so little he knew about this man. L acted like such a brat most of the time that it made Light forget how much older the man was. How did a man end up in L's position? What had he survived to become like this?

Hot words were whispered in his ear, so confounding in their revelation that it took Light a moment to register them. "I had wanted to touch you for a very long time, Light-kun."

Light moaned softly, trying his best to suppress it. The overwhelming pleasure of the hands on him left him breathless. No one had ever touched him like this, not with such firm challenge. It was an exhilarating novelty.

He gasped loudly. Why was he so sensitive? His body reacted like a twelve year old boy's. Light had never thought of doing this with L before. And when L approached him earlier it seemed absurd, but the reality was wretchedly beautiful. Light hated himself for feeling such emotional nonsense.

And yet he had no inclination of stopping his voice from moaning a throaty, "touch me here," and spreading his thighs.

He was going to hate himself after this. But in the meantime, he could not help his cheeks from lifting in a sensuous smile as the most splendid, solid warmth of L's hand encased his manhood. He allowed this smile in the darkness. L would never see it. He thrust his hips shamelessly. There was never any doubt it was a man's touch around his flesh, and it made Light's mind go wild. He wanted more. Even as he thought of wanting closer contact, L pulled away to strip him of his pants and briefs. After which, he returned to plant himself between Light's legs.

Light froze. To speak would shatter their fragile connection but doubts surfaced as he struggled to push them back down.

His hesitation was brought to a stop when he felt L's face pressed against his for another kiss with quivering nervous lips as if L was holding back twenty-five years of repressed emotions. Whatever. This was their last moment together, and L was a pathetic man. Let the poor bastard take his little "taste to remember".

The detective had prepared him as properly as their means allowed, but it still hurt. When L finally managed to force himself in, Light could not withhold a half-stifled cry of pain. Hearing this, L stopped. His whole body trembled inside his loose clothes. Light had to concentrate on other things. The thrill of L's hard, clothed body rough against his naked skin. Light's shirt hanging sensually off his shoulders. There was something so delectably alluring about holding power in this submission.

Light was bare and vulnerable while L hid behind his shell of fabric, looming over him; yet L was a beggar and Light only allowed him to eat what he was given.

"Keep going, don't stop," he barked. He didn't need L's diligence or compassion.

There was a shuttering pause in which L seemed to hesitate; then with a growl and a few violent thrusts he buried himself all the way inside Light.

Tears streamed down Light's feverish temples as he gritted his teeth. He whimpered and hissed and let out strained, shuddering sobs instead.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah," L answered, breathing hard. "That's what I thought you'd say."

"Shut up!" he groaned back; talking was a difficult operation. Even so, the pain in a twisted way removed some of his fears. Crude and angry, not vulnerable and hurt. It was better that way.

This time there was no hesitation. L immediately began a moderate, steady tempo, thrusting in and out swiftly, shifting angles in search of something. Meantime, he took Light's manhood and stroked it back to life. Light's shoulders and twisted limbs cuffed under him burned sharply, but he ignored all that in favor of L's hand.

L noticed and said, "I want to see your face." Without the slightest bit of remorse.

Light glared in response. "And I wouldn't be caught dead on all fours, so stop talking and fuck me!"

Light had been about to think that he regretted allowing L inside when in a mind-numbing instant he arched up completely off the cot, his mouth agape, releasing a loud, shameful moan. When he did it again and again, having lost his trepidation, L began to chuckle breathlessly. The detective's expression was one of wonder, as if he's never seen something so beautiful.

"O—oh, fuck!"

"Yeah," L grunted painstakingly as he thrust in faster and harder from that same angle, hitting the younger man's prostate again and again. "I'd thought you'd say that too."

L pounded him exquisitely and perfectly into that springy cot. All mental and emotional inhibitions, embarrassment, shame, and pride were thrown to the winds. Light gave himself up fully to this domineering sexual fervor, riding out the pleasure-waves L provided with wanton anticipation. Moaning and sighing with freedom, he lifted his knees up as best he could without his hands so L could slide in easier and was frustrated to find he was unable to touch the man.

"Yes! Yes!" he half cried, half hissed. He was coming and coming hard like never before. No woman had ever made him lose it like he did then. No woman had fucked him as expertly as L had just now. Or aroused him to such heights. He had recently begun to suspect he might have no taste for the opposite sex but had firmly squashed those inappropriate thoughts.

Leave it to L to make him throw all that away. Light never did function as he should around the man.

L threw his head back in bliss and cried out. For a moment, pale skin flushed red, sweat glistening on his face, eyes half closed and mouth opened and lax in pleasure, L looked really beautiful. He could feel vaguely how L shuddered above, and the spasms of a wonderful pressure inside his body, followed by a hot wetness that filled him.

For a blinding second, Light almost forgot everything that had happened that day, but as it came crashing back, he refused to waste one thought for the man who lay spent over him, still inside him, as both tried to collect their breaths, basking in the fragile afterglow. He couldn't afford to lose himself in it or to enjoy himself any more than he had under L. The violence in their actions was gone, making Light feel naked and exposed. He quickly took back his mental reigns and returned to reality.

When he finally pulled himself together, the body slumped over his felt heavier than he remembered. Shame returned, along with the pain in his ass.

"Get off," he gasped. He hadn't sounded as angry or firm as he had wished but it did the trick.

With a soft plop, L carefully removed himself from inside Light. His semen trickled down the younger man's heated inner thighs and buttocks. Briskly, he cleaned them both with the blanket, then pulled Light's underwear and pants back on with short, violent movements. He closed the buttons on Light's dress shirt quickly and shoved the soiled blanket under the cot. All the while, Light heard him breathe hard.

L was angry too, which was funny since he had been the one begging for it.

Light admitted to himself somewhat reluctantly that it had been something he secretly needed also; a guilty desire to relieve him from the reality of his impending doom. And he had always held a morbid fascination with L, but the better part of him, the part of him dictated by his father's firm voice, flayed him heartlessly for what they'd just done.

"You got your damned taste. Now get out."

L kiss him again and Light, too distraught to struggle in vain against it, kissed back just as violently. This was the last time he'd ever see L. Light turned his face away to end the kiss. He couldn't stand it. That tightness in him that made him want to scream had returned full force.

"Leave!"

As abruptly as he had come, L left with a resounding click of the heavy metal door in the silence.

And that was it.

Light had won that first round so L had decided to try another tactic—lulling him into submission. L had buttered him up with those simple, cutting words, this is goodbye. He realized L must have some inkling of Light's feelings towards him, even if those feelings were a small, frail voice in the background.

Very well, Light gave round two to L...like it mattered in the end. The last battle decided the victor. If Light died then at least he'd still have punctured a hole inside L that would never be filled. Whether he was executed, or if he succeeded in escaping before then, it would, indeed, be the last time he saw L. The detective got his worthless taste to remember…no, to haunt him. So Light didn't lose without considerably damaging his opponent. After all, L seemed to be the one with stronger feelings for him. To Light, it had been meaningless sex. A rook for the queen.

A/N: The line "Behave as if playing chess on ice," is not mine. The credit goes to Nishioishin who wrote the Death Note novel, Another Note.