The Games We Play

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note (and never will).

Warnings: No real plot PWP/bad attempt at porn, nothing new to speak of, present tense, semi-abuse of brackets, newbie author testing out the waters?

Don't expect brilliance. Criticism loved, but no flames (please refrain from being rude). Thanks to istne_pieklo and Calamus for the beta!

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L tastes like coffee, too much sugar and something else that Light can't define. It could be L's own peculiar taste, or it's just Light's senses not being able to deal with all those many impressions at once: the smell of (could it be?) strawberry shampoo coming from L's hair, the all too noticeable sounds of the bed creaking under both of their weights and the damned hammering of his own heart against his ribcage. He's trembling all over. Light is nervous. Shouldn't be, but is because all those sensations at once are too terrifying and too sudden. Somehow, he and L have gone from talking to kissing so quickly that it's quite overwhelming Light. He doesn't like it when things don't exactly go according to plan. So, he's a bit nervous.

Every normal person would be nervous in this situation.

And yet, he shouldn't be nervous. The fact that he is – that one part of him is coming undone right here and now – is the first sign that doing this is fucking wrong. Because Kira is supposed to be strong and infallible – not like other human beings, who err. Light can't err, he has to keep strong.

But, he decides, nipping at Ryuuzaki's lower lips, forcing his tongue into that hot, open mouth still tasting of cake, that he doesn't really care. Because he'll win, anyway.

In all the possibilities that Light calculated and meticulously planned for capturing L (that bastard who'd humiliated him so much by showing up when he'd least expected him to show up, in the brightness of day), the thought of doing this had only dimly flitted through his brain. Of course he's considered it, he thinks, while he's trailing his right hand underneath L's shirt, running his fingers over cool skin.

L makes a noise. It might be a grunt or a groan. Or just a brief "hmm". Like he's surprised that touching your groin is a stimulus which brings out that kind of reaction. Like it secretly amazes him that he can feel such things. Maybe, Light thinks the latter has a higher percentage of being true, seeing how L has zero knowledge of how to deal with people. He doubts the man, who must be older than him – regardless of how young he looks – has ever even kissed before (and it's pathetic yet arousing at the same time).

"You kiss like a dead fish, Ryuuzaki," Yagami-kun, who is really Kira, whispers into his ear. L doesn't shudder, doesn't even feel shivers run down his spine. He just nods because it's a fact and he's never been someone to deny facts.

"It's not like I have the honour of being kissed very often, Light-kun," he says, and it's the truth. He doesn't even know how this started. Then, at the moment, he really doesn't care.

It doesn't really fit into the scheme of things he'd planned to happen. But it's only a slight alteration. L thinks he might actually learn about more about Light-kun like this than simply observing him through a camera. And kissing, L decides quite rationally, is a nice pastime. If it brings him closer to Kira, he can deal with the wetness and slight surrealism of the situation.

Of course, Light thinks. Of course. It makes sense. And he's suddenly forced to admit that he isn't doing this because Ryuuzaki (damn fucking L) is so attractive. He isn't. Not that Light really cares much for aesthetics, really. It's the inside that matters, it's what you've got inside your brains and heart that matters. And, anyway, Light thinks that he'll kill the pretty ones too, especially those pretty ones who are nothing but filth on the inside.

Sex is something so vulgar and commonplace for him. He's done this before. Often enough that he knows that he could do without it. All the messiness of feelings and clingy girls is something he doesn't need – they only conflict with his schedule, and, to Light, the only thing that really matters in the long run is schedule. He doesn't have time for sex, doesn't need it and thinks that accomplishing his goals is more than substitute enough for a roll in the hay, so to speak.

But he also knows that some people can't, that some people will melt if you push them just enough. He knows that L won't be pushed that easily, but he's only human. In the end, all humans are weak. And since L was the one who started this – unexpectedly slammed his lips against Light's, pushing him down the bed with him – Light thinks he can use this situation to his advantage. He'll turn the tables around and take L by surprise. Even if L isn't really all that attractive.

Even when he lets his tongue trail down that pale skin, Light thinks how L isn't pretty at all. He's more like a spider, posture all awkward and he's so thin. His eyes, those black and terrifyingly blank eyes, are observing his movements with acute precision. Light knows that L is measuring and weighing his actions carefully. Each touch is a meticulously planned tactic to make him slip or betray some slip of emotion that fits into L's perception of what Kira is.

This isn't about lust at all. Light knows that. And he knows that L knows that too. Because if this were only about venting out sexual pleasures, then it would be easier. Light wouldn't have to remain guarded, wouldn't have to ensure that his oh so cleverly fabricated mask doesn't slip. But this is L who's analysing the situation, even though he's about to get fucked. And because this is L, Light has to keep on pretending.

L lets himself be pushed down the bed. His shirt is gone, probably tossed to the floor, and he can easily observe that his jeans will be disposed of in exactly the same way. L feels like sticking a finger into his mouth, but he can't. Light-kun, whom he now suspects of being Kira more than ever, keeps his hands pined above his head. He's trapped, and L lets himself be trapped. Because he knows that he'll only be able to crack Light's mask if he submits. He isn't losing. No, L does this in order to win.

God, Light thinks, I should just kill him here and now. But that would be messy and – not to mention – illogical. He'd rouse to many suspicions, and if Light wants to avoid something right now, it's being suspected. He has to keep us his guise of being an innocent student.

Besides, looking down into that oddly curious face with the big blank black eyes, he senses that L might prove to be fun still. He will dispose of him one day, but for now he'll have his fun.

L doesn't gasp out when he feels a hot mouth on his cock. The only sound escaping his lips is a slight grunt, and he's thrusting his hips upward, nearly furiously trying to shove his penis even further into Light's mouth because, L realises and his eyes snap open at that, it feels amazingly good. And for a moment, he nearly forgets that he shouldn't allow his emotions to interfere (unnecessary, nothing but an obstacle in his path leading to power).

Oh, this is getting good, Light thinks when he feels L's wiry fingers bury themselves into his hair. He might not be crying out in pleasure, but this is enough of an indication that he likes it, that he's slowly losing control over himself. And Light, even if he's still got his mouth wrapped around L's cock, grins smugly. Yes, he's good; he's so good that he amazes himself. He wonders, eyes rising slightly to the ceiling and meeting an amused Ryuuk's glance, if his ever present watcher – bound to him by a contract – thinks so too. Maybe he does. It's most likely that Ryuuk thinks that all of this is terribly amusing (humans are incredibly fascinating subjects after all. Always contradicting one another, always seeking for the truth in the wrong places).

It isn't amusing for L when Light lets go of his pre-cum leaking cock just when he's about to reach climax. He snaps his eyes open, and Light shakes his head. Why, L is so childish – he looks startled, as if he'd been torn out of pleasant opium dream.

Checkmate, he thinks. I've got L just where I wanted him.

"Disappointed?" Light asks, smiling mischievously at the nearly furious look in L's eyes. "I'm not selfless enough that I'll let you have all the fun, you know?"

That's when reality hits L. He realises that, if he succumbs now – falls to begging and pleading – that Light, no, Kira will have the upper hand. And L, digging his ridiculously thin fingers into the blankets, won't allow that. Because it's better to die than to allow Light to ever hold power over him. So he remains quiet and no words pour of his mouth.

Light smirks again, amused that L is so predictable. He'd known beforehand that he wouldn't be graced with a "fuck me, please". No, not from L. But it's all there; it's there on the faint blush gracing his cheeks, the way his body is trembling and his cock is throbbing too. It must be painful, being aroused like this. And Light would feel sorry if it weren't for the fact that – if their roles were reversed – that L would probably show him just as little mercy (he'd probably have him handcuffed and watch Light finger-fucking himself. Watch and watch till Light would start pleading and begging... and only then – only then – would L show some mercy).

There's no preparation. L winces in discomfort – but he doesn't cry out – when Light enters him relentlessly. Light's hot and big inside of him – it burns. L closes his eyes, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat. He can hear it now for some strange reasons; he can't remember having been so hypersensitive to the beating of his own heart before. Maybe it's because he's – L doesn't know. L doesn't know anything at the moment. He'd expected it to hurt, but not this searing pain. Not the humiliation of lying naked underneath a bastard who's killing people off with a wave of his hand. But there's no turning back now. There's no turning back. He'll have to remain strong because no, no, no, he won't run away. He won't run away.

Light starts moving now. Not gently. No, Light pulls out harshly and then slams right back into L – and it feels wonderful. Much better than Light expected. L is hot and tight, just as much as he expected him to be – and it's marvellous. Marvellous because Light knows that he can crush L now, crush him with his fist like you'd crush an ant crawling on pavement.

It tears L up inside, and he arches upwards, unable to do anything other than grit his teeth against his lips. The coppery taste of blood fills his mouth. L wipes it away.

Light stops him. He rather likes it when L's mouth is nearly ruby red – it looks delectable.

No, L is not attractive. But Light realises that in this second – while he's gasping and arching upwards with sweat soaking his skin – L is nearly fucking gorgeous. His eyes are closed. L's hair is more in tangles than usual. And he's so hot and tight, so wonderfully tight. It doesn't matter that Ryuuk is watching, that somewhere downstairs his mother is preparing dinner and that, if his plans ever fail, this man – this terribly odd man – will probably be the death of him.

L is turned on. His mind protests, but fuck, fuck, fuck he realises, his body doesn't. No, L realises with horror, he wants this. He likes it. He likes it so much that it's more than just nauseating.
Light. It's all Light's fault.

Because there's nothing else left to do, he's moving his hips upwards to meet Light's furiously frantic thrusts. He hears the bed creak, hears how their bodies are sliding against each other (feels too how Light's cock leaves and re-enters his body, senses how he's slowly losing control over himself, how the pleasure is growing so thick that he's barely aware of what is happening around him).

Everything is blurred, vague – misty. L is slowly drowning – being encompassed – by that hazy blurred mistiness. He's losing himself in it. He shouldn't, but he is.

But it's not like he's the only one losing. Light might not realise it, but he's losing control too. L opens his eyes, and his thoughts are confirmed: Light's face is a terrifying mixture of delight, contempt and something that is nearly inhuman – it's so vicious, so utterly deluded. Light is wrapped up in the supposed of glory of winning that he doesn't realise he's losing. Losing because he's overestimating himself. Doomed because he's reaching for something he can't have.

And the one thing L knows that Light will never have is him. After all, nothing has changed. Even if they're one now, even if their bodies are joined so intimately, it won't change fate. It won't keep L from trying to prove to the world – and himself – that Light Yagami is really Kira. Yes, L thinks even while he's close to climaxing – that he'll bring Kira down. He'll bring him down.

Light is close. He can feel it. His balls tighten, and then he comes, not bothering to pull out of Ryuuzaki while he does so – he spills himself inside of L. He doesn't scream or cry out, just grunts. He pulls out, suddenly aware of how sweaty and filthy he is. He rolls his eyes in disgust. He'd nearly forgotten how messy sex is.

Light doesn't kiss L afterwards. He doubts that L cares much. Light didn't even help L to come himself – he doesn't think that L minds much either. They're not lovers. Hell, they aren't even friends. Light can barely stand L.

Light is right. L doesn't mind it. Doesn't mind because he can take care of it himself. He's neither expecting kindness nor wants it. L is used to being alone, indulges in it in fact; it's the one thing that makes him so good at what he's doing.

Now that the brief haze of sex has left him, he's viewing this quite rationally. He'll get cleaned up and then it'll just be like it always was: he's still L and Light-kun is Kira.

And, in the end, that's all there is really left to it.

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