A/N: This is unapologetic porn which I'm not going to apologize for, and was written several months ago for the death note kink meme on lj. I'm slowly moving some of my DN fic from AO3 over to here (going backwards, I know). Kink is gunplay. Note that I know little to nothing about guns, in practical use or in bed, and even less about writing.

Reviews would tickle me to the toes. Thank you for reading!

Light locks and loads it with precision - he's a cop, after all, he knows these things.

L knocks the rope away the first time Light tries to wrap it around his wrists. The second time - cold barrel pressed to the side of his head, teeth grit and cock hard between them - he allows it. The chain tangles with the rope, their limbs tangle with both, and Light licks at L's dry, chapped lips as he moves the gun down along the curve of his jaw and presses it to one gaunt, pale cheekbone.

The safety's still on, but from this angle, he's sure L can't see that. Not that it matters.

Bang, he thinks, then turns his head so that his lips line up with L's ear, breath tickling the skin there. "Are you afraid?" he asks.

L shudders in answer. Light thinks it's in arousal, and maybe some of it is, but it's only a few seconds before he realizes L is laughing.

"Are you?" he hears in his own ear, feels L's lips brush against it.

Light pulls back to look him in the face, only off balance for a single second. I'm not the one with the gun in my face, he's about to say, before there's a thump to his gut and the air rushes out of him. L's foot, quick as a snake, catches him in the stomach and shoves him back.

Light doesn't hit the ground, the bed is too big for that, but he does fall flat on his back, coughing hard. He manages to keep hold of the gun, but loses hold of L - who is on him in seconds. His wrists are still tied together, knotted tight, but his legs are free, and those are what pose the danger. He straddles Light's chest, a knee on either side, and leans over him, staring with big, black eyes.

Soon Light's cough turns into a laugh, and he tighten's his grip on the gun, shaking his head and grinning. "Should have tied to you to the headboard," he says. "I like you tied to the headboard."

"Wouldn't have been as fun," L replies, voice light and unconcerned, but there's an edge of amusement to it, "if I was the only one in danger."

Light laughs harder then, leans up and grabs the back of L's head with his free hand and pulls him forward, kissing him hard. He bites, shoves his tongue into L's mouth and groans, tasting the sharp tang of blood.

He feels a smile against his lips. L only ever smiles when Light can't see him.

As they continue to suckle at each other's lips, tongues sliding against tongues - and kissing is really quite disgusting, completely unhygienic, which doesn't explain why he enjoys it so damn much - Light adjust his right hand a bit, just enough to bring the gun up and point it right at the space where their mouths meet. Then he pulls back, smirking, and just points it at L.

Bang, he thinks, and says, "Roll over onto your back."

L doesn't glance at the gun, but Light knows that he knows that it's there by the way he feels him growing even harder in his jeans, pressed as he is against Light's chest.

"Or what?" L says, and this is him playing rough, not dumb. Dumb is his head tilted and his eyes wide, thumb pressed to his mouth. Dumb is the uncaring way he'd stared at Light's cock the first time they'd showered together, like it was just a specimen, like he didn't even know what it was for. L is not dumb, not even close, but he keeps the farce so close, so constant, that it's sometimes hard to remember that.

Now is not one of those times. With a gun pointed at his head, L just looks slightly smug, and extremely turned on.

Light shrugs as best he can in his reclined position, and pulls at the safety. "Maybe I'll blow your brains out."

L pretends to consider it, chewing at his lips. "Maybe you should just blow me."

"Maybe if you'd get on your back like I told you to, I will."

"Hmm. Maybe."

Light knows it's coming, so when L lifts his tied hands and brings his elbows towards Light's face, he slams his free hand up, blocking them, and brings his other hand around to smash the barrel of the gun into the side of L's face. Not hard enough to break anything, he's almost sure, but it will definitely leave a great, purple bruise. He can't actually wait to see it, marring that perfect white skin.

There's a pained sound, half a whimper and half a grunt, but Light ignores it in favor of taking advantage of L's sudden lack of balance. He flips them so that he's on top, leaning between spread knees, and grins down at L, bringing his spare hand up to brush his fingers against L's throbbing cheek.

"Shhhhh," he whispers, mocking and adoring at the same time.

L glares, catching his breath. "That hurt, Light-kun."

"Good." Bang, he thinks.

He moves his lips to press soft butterfly kisses against the skin. L grits and shudders under him, but he won't ask him to stop, won't give him the satisfaction. Light doesn't mind. There are, after all, plenty of other ways to satisfy himself.

He switches the gun to his left hand so as to more easily unbutton L's jeans - which is difficult anyhow, but he's not willing to put the gun down, not even for a second. He rubs circles along the butt of it with his thumb, does the same with his other thumb against the soft skin of L's stomach, right above his zipper.

"Lift," he whispers, motioning at L's hips and L leans up and bites Light's lip. Then complies.

Light absolutely eats up L's facial expression - or concentrated lack of such - as he pulls trousers and boxers off of his hips, down his legs, and over his long, pale feet. Then he tugs the shirt off as far as it will go, though it gets trapped at the knot around his wrists. Light doesn't care, just feels himself hardening in his own pants and clenching his fingers around the gun.

"Want me to fuck you?" he asks, running the barrel along L's thighs, over his straining cock.

There's a long silence, and then just when he thinks L is about to answer, one of the long legs that's wrapped lazily around his hips flies up, jamming a heel into his back. He coughs, spluttering and falling forward onto L, who uses his bound hands to knock the gun out of Light's. It hits the mattress, and before he even bothers to catch his breath, Light is reaching for it again. L kicks out, too, hits it first, and it goes flying to the floor.

"You bastard," Light grits out, catching his breath.

L can't quite contain the smirk this time. "Yes, I would like you to fuck me, Light-kun."

Light gapes at him for a few short seconds, then he can't help it. He laughs. Shaking his head, he grabs L's face with both hands and kisses him, hard. "You fucker," he says against his lips, still laughing. L groans as Light jams a thumb into the the tender place on his cheek that's already starting to bruise. "Do you want to die, L?"

L groans, this time not so much because of the pain, and bites at Light's lip again.

"Not today," he says, and his eyes are laughing.

Light smirks back. Then he drags himself off the bed, stands up and grabs L around the back, under the knee - he's light, ridiculously so - and picks him up. He pulls him briefly against his chest, pressing a kiss to his hair, before he throws him to the ground at his feet.

L lands on his back, but manages not to hit his head. "Ow," he says, but doesn't look even slightly surprised.

Light picks the gun up off the floor. He feels immediately better once it's in his hand, more steady. His cock gives a jerk. He points it at L. "Get up," he says, "on your knees."

L stares up at him for a few seconds, maybe debating whether or not to try and kick his feet out from under him. It would get ugly then, but Light knows that L likes it ugly, likes the cuts and bruises and broken bones. Safe, sane, and consensual - those are supposed to be guidelines. It's consensual enough, but he's almost sure the first two would make sex completely boring for him. For L, too.

Bang, he thinks.

L finally pulls himself up on unsteady knees, using his elbows in place of his tied hands. He leans back, balances so he's kneeling, looking up at Light.

Light smirks, fingering the gun. "Turn around."

L doesn't smirk back, but his eyes dance and his cock is leaking. "Make me."

The words are barely out before Light is on him, gun clutched in his right hand, as his left grabs a fistful of L's wild hair and pulls. He twists him around, throwing him forward so that he lands on the corner of the mattress, chest pressed to the sheet, ass hanging off, as lewd and as lovely a sight as Light's ever seen. He jams a knee into L's back, holding him there, and brings the gun around to press to his temple.

"Do I have to make you spread your legs, too?" he asks, lips ghosting against the other side of L's head.

L's shuddering now, hard and desperate for it, but he still has fight in him. He always has fight in him. It'd be no fun fucking him, otherwise. "Hmm," he says, pretending to think about, "you might."

Light bites his ear, then backs up, kicks his legs apart, and slips a hand down to press roughly at his hole.

"Uhn," L gasps. "Lube."

"What's that? Ask politely."

L jerks under him, writhing. "Hnnggg. Bite me, Light-kun."

Light does, digging his teeth into one taut shoulder blade, hard enough to break skin and gets little drops of blood all over his lips. He wipes at them with of the back of his hand, then presses the gun harder against L's skull. "Ask politely," he whispers, which is a different way of saying beg.

L arches, chews doggedly at his lips, but when Light's fingers slide down to play with his hole again, L gives. If only a bit. "Lube," he says, "please."

"All you had to do was ask," Light tells him, nipping playfully at his shoulder.

He does use lube, though not a terrible excess of it, shoving his pants down his hips before shoving a finger into L. He brings the gun around to rest it at L's lips, running it gently along them. When L's tongue slips out to lick at it, Light falters for a moment, eyes catching on the sight and not able to move. Then he smirks, shoves another finger in and rubs. A few seconds later, L spasms, arching back deliriously and accidentally hitting the cold metal of the gun against his teeth. He doesn't seem to care, though, and with the wriggling L's doing under him, Light can't bring himself to, either.

When he pushes himself inside L, he pushes the gun into his mouth at the same time, careful to keep his finger away from the trigger. L's lips wrap around it without complaint, but his back goes a bit stiff. He's afraid, Light knows, and loves it. And he's afraid, too. He could slip, he could pull the trigger, and then bang, L's gone. He doesn't know what he'd do, how he'd explain it, what he'd feel. This isn't how it happens, isn't how L dies. Not with Light buried inside of him, as he gasps and groans and begs beneath him.

It's beautiful, sure, but it's also wrong. Too close, too personal. Too real.

He angles his hips to hit L just right, makes him gasp and then choke around the barrel of the gun. He starts bucking, needing oxygen, bound wrists trying to wiggle free. Light waits until the very last second, until L's on the verge of unconsciousness, before he pulls it out.

L coughs, tries to say something, but before the - probably quite angry and derogatory - words make it out, Light's pulling out of him, twisting him around and throwing him on his back. He lands with a soft thump on the mattress, and stares up at Light, eyes unbelievably huge and watery. He doesn't look weak or broken, though. Doesn't even look that angry. Mostly, he just looks horny.

Light climbs on top of him, thrusting back inside before L even has time to catch his breath. He fucks him like that for a few minutes, one hand wrapped around a sharp hipbone, the other pointing the gun at L's chest. Right at his heart.

L pushes up to meet each thrust, teeth grit with a determined sort of desperation that Light loves. When he senses that L is almost there, almost ready to come apart under him, he slows his pace a bit and pulls back to stare down at him.

"Do you want to die, L?" he asks, quietly. He means it as a tease, as part of the game, but it doesn't sound like that.

L swallows, throat dry and clearly painful. "Do you want to kill me, Light-kun?"

Light stares at him. His hips are still moving, but barely, and he's starting to feel all the bruises, all the aches that he'll have for the next few days. And… they feel nice.

He leans in and kisses L, shoves hard at his lips just as his hips begin to pick up the pace again, slamming inside and making him whimper beautifully. He sucks at his tongue, licks at his teeth, and then pulls back, just barely, his mouth hovering over L's. "Not today," he whispers.

L clenches at that, arching and gasping and spilling all over them. Bang! Light thinks, and follows him.

It can't be more than a few minutes later when Light blinks hazily, opening his eyes. L is still under him, but the gun has fallen out of his hand, onto the mattress behind them. He glances at L, makes sure he's not dead, and then pulls out, rolling to the side to fall on his back beside him. L makes a pained, yet oddly satisfied sound, and curls up next to him. Light thinks about untying his wrists, but it feels like far too much trouble just then.

He glances at L's face, sees the bruise forming there. He lifts a finger, his hand ridiculously heavy, and drags the pad of it lightly over the injured cheek.

"You're going to need an icepack," he says.

L doesn't crack an eyelid. "I'd rather a popsicle."

"You'll just eat that," Light says, feeling lazy, feeling heavy and bruised and wonderful.

"Fine," L mumbles, "two popsicles."

Light smiles into the mop of black hair next to him. "You'll eat them both." He's not certain if he says it or just thinks it, only that pretty soon after that, he's asleep

- end.