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“Uhhm. My hands are full at the moment.”
“I - L, are you holding the phone?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Put it down.”
“All right.” L’s voice now comes to him from somewhere far away.
“But can you bring the phone closer to you?” Light asks. “I want to actually hear you.”
Some shuffling, and L’s voice returns, clearer and louder. “How's this?”
“Any closer?”
“Well, if I get much closer it will only make other things difficult.”
“All right. Do whatever you want. Just make sure I can hear you.”
“Turn your volume up. If I can hear you, you can hear me just fine.”
Sitting upright, legs confidently apart, Light reclines on the couch of their apartment. He is still partially dressed in a half-buttoned shirt and slacks, though his jacket was discarded hours ago. He undoes the fly of his pants.
“So… what are you wearing?” Light jokes lewdly, already groping himself.
“Jeans, and a white shirt.” He doesn’t know what response he expected of L, but the bluntness irritates him. He could at least try to play along.
Take your clothes off, Light wants to demand, but he knows that would be nothing short of a total disaster. L will struggle to get his own clothes off without outward help, and is very likely to get stuck. Game over, night ruined. Obviously calling in reinforcements - Watari - would be horrifically inappropriate given the context. There would be no saving the eroticism after that.
A shame, though, since finicky L now has to be very mindful not to desecrate his clothing.
Light supposes it does not have to matter if he won’t be able to see him, and he settles for the conclusion that the thought of L desperately touching himself with a hand down his loose pants and into his boxers is tantalizing enough anyway.
“Are you fingering yourself, or jerking off?”
“Jerking off.” L confidently tries the phrase, which sounds out of place in his soft voice, out from his polite mouth. “I'm still somewhat sore from your… impassioned send-off the other night. Watari was quite concerned about the extensive bruising on my clavicle.”
“And I don't even get to see it.”
“It’s really very impressive. I'll send you a picture,” L promises lewdly.
He will not.
“Are you hard?”
“Mm-hm.”
He imagines that sometime, when they're together again, he can have L underneath him, stroking himself to Light’s precise instruction, with Light strictly hands-off, completely absorbed in doing nothing but drinking in the sight of L’s face - his big, dark eyes, soft, pursing lips, every inch of his expression - all desperately malleable, and kneaded into shape by nothing but Light's words alone. For L to throw his hips and cry out, begging for relief, while Light talks him right to the edge, and then ruthlessly, gleefully, denies reprieve.
Now let go. Take your hand off. Tell me, how does it feel?
Light isn't even sure whether L has ever bothered to masturbate before. He's right to be skeptical - he will find out in due time that L has, historically, had minimal-to-no interest in such a thing. Light can’t really boast all that much more experience, but he certainly wins against L. The great detective L, brilliant and experienced in all, is a complete sexual novice. Though he sure can tie a cherry stem.
Light has put that smart mouth to some very good use.
Memories of L gagging on Kira's cock are so delightful it makes Light realize he really needs to slow down, or he will lose control already.
He would rather like to see L’s face - his eyes, his mouth - but he knows L will not agree to a video call - not even with Light - so he doesn’t bother to push it. A phone call takes pestering enough. It will have to serve them.
He can hear some kind of gentle clinking on the other end as L moves his wrist back and forth, and immediately hones in on the familiar sound of the thick, metal links.
“Hey, you’re wearing my watch.”
“I’ve always said your deductive skills were very impressive, Light.”
“Mm. You miss me, huh?” Light says it with self-assured arrogant taunting. The thought of his watch on L’s wrist as he services himself warms him pleasantly. It is just slightly too big for L, and the added slack has it rattle around on him so tastefully.
And L, always nothing but facts, openly affirms - “Yes,” - so genuine that it threatens to melt Light into a puddle of devotion already. Though he will refuse to return the gentle sentiment out loud.
“Well I’m pissed off that you aren’t here.” He uses his free hand to rest his chin on his thumb, fingers across his lips, leaning his elbow against the arm of the sofa, close to where he has left the cellphone. Sharp eyes throw a knife-like glare at it. “I want to fuck you.”
“You have such a way with words.”
“I was hoping I'd get to leave some more bruises. And I want to… enjoy them, this time. I wanna get to hear what sounds you make when I press into them.”
“Do your thoughts of me often turn to violence?” L is starting to pant.
“Maybe some teeth marks, too.”
“I bite back,” L warns, warming, hot.
“Yeah? I’d like to see you try.”
“What will you do…?” L exhales shudderingly. Swallows. Light chuckles, incredulous.
“I can't believe this actually gets you off.”
“Should I remind you who started this discussion?”
Light scoffs. “And you’re playing along.”
“So…? What would you do?”
“ I would,” - Light pauses to swallow - “Put the - put my hands around your throat.”
“Mm-hm?” L prods. His breath is quickening.
“I'd press down.”
“Mm-hm.” Light can hear the fabric of clothing shifting just slightly, rhythmically, as L runs his hand up and down his own length.
“And I’d choke you.”
“Ah-hah…?”
“Slowly.”
“Mmh…” L shivers pleasantly, and presses himself deeper into crisp hotel sheets - although in preparation for their call, he’d put an extra sheet down over the top of those. “And if I… keep… if I… faah -… fight back…?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I… could… m-mh… kick… you…”
“Yeah?” Light growls in between huffs. “Then I'd break your fucking neck.”
He doesn’t know what on earth possesses him to say it.
At least - out loud.
And directly to L.
Only a few short months ago, he would be absolutely mortified at the thought of vocalizing such a lurid fancy in front of anyone who wasn’t Ryuk. Deepest, darkest desires on full display.
Exposed to bone.
If L, therefore, broke their tension to snap, What is wrong with you? - he’d understand it.
Though, to his utmost surprise - but the utter delight of his dick - L, actually, completely loses himself in a blissfully drawn-out moan… and promptly thereafter seems quick to regain some lucidity. Light can almost hear his red-hot, feverish blush in his voice, and how his next words come from the parameter of a finger to his mouth, breathless. “I apologize - that was a wholly inappropriate reaction.”
“No,” Light pants, working himself like crazy, hard exhales loaded with outrageous desire. “Oh, my God. Fuck, I liked that.”
“That is terrible news for your Kira percentage.” L chuckles, still light-headed and reeling, hand momentarily halted. It’s a joke - the big secret has been out to L for months - but he can’t resist falling back on it.
“Shut up… do I have to… hah… kill you… to… make you stop… bringing that up?”
“Maybe,” L agrees deliciously. It peals out of him at a higher pitch than anticipated, probably because L has just started touching himself again. Light can, once again, hear his own watch clattering around the proximity of L’s moving wrist in confirmation.
“Yeah? What, you’d want that? Want me to fucking… kill you?” Listening to how L’s clothing rustles, Light tries to match his pace. He realizes his own has quickly developed; too hasty, too eager. He reels himself back a little, so as not to be the one to lose himself first.
L stifles another moan.
“Are you close yet?”
“Uh… I… hmm… give me a moment… It… becomes too much… and then I stop.”
“Don’t. Just keep going.”
“It's easier… better… when you do it.” Light feels an arrogant surge of pride well up in his chest, but the next words cut right through it. “If you were here -”
“Whose fault is that?” Light snaps, but when L goes silent on the other end, he regrets the prospect of ruining the beautiful thing they've got going on right now. He hastens to scrape a little more out of this moment. “If I were there, I'd probably have made you cum about three times by now,” he boasts, playing haughty to save face over his indignant little outburst.
“Physically impossible. Though I appreciate… mmmmnh… the sentiment…” L pants a little more. His hips shift, pushing his ass against the covers. A little shock of thrilling residual pain jolts its way up his spine, making him yelp. “Light… uhhm… do you really want… to kill me…?”
“Um... Yeah.”
“Ha… how…?”
Shit.
Light shuts his eyes tight, and with painstaking restriction, stills his hand to prevent himself from coming right then and there.
There were so many things he could say.
But…
“Any special requests?” He can’t help but sound strained. His dick is so warm, and pulsating in his hand.
“Ah… uh… would there… mmh… be blood…?” L’s voice is rising and falling, pace now quickening. He starts to hear wetness in L’s strokes.
Light tries to start up again slowly, but his pace builds rapid before long. He is grateful, at least, to be able to match L’s momentum now. “Ugh - yeah, yeah. Oh, fuck yeah. I'd fucking gut you. I'd blow your fucking brains out. Yeah. Whatever you want. Whatever you want.”
L cries out - dark voice anxious and pleading. “Light, Light - mmh, I need to…”
“In a minute. In a minute. Fuck.” Light is ecstatic, grunting as he thrusts into his own fist, letting L’s talking and breathing be enough to sustain him in lieu of his supple ass to grind into. “You’re mine. I’ll kill you. No one else ever will.”
L has dissolved into moans and whines and desperate pants. “Light… Kira…”
“You're mine.”
“Mh -”
“Mine to fuck.”
“Ah -”
“Mine to kill.”
“Ha-ah… Kira… I - Kira …” Sounds start to catch mournfully in the back of L’s throat.
“I’ll kill you,” Light promises again as L cries out rhythmically, lost in ecstasy. “I'll kill you. I'll kill you.”
At this point, most regular couples tended to say something a little more along the lines of; I love you.
Still, L screams like a shuddering sigh - just like the first time he'd ever heard the second Kira utter the word shinigami. The sound of it sets off Light like a chain reaction; and in turn, he, too, comes so hard his vision blurs.
Miles apart, they slacken, and catch their breath together.
Light waits until he is able to see straight again, hand still idly toying with his own dick, and then asks abruptly, “Did you cum?”
The other end of the phone is disconcertingly silent for a while.
Light almost guesses L has hopped up and run off to wash up already - until L’s voice returns to him, weighed by the admittance of a tentative and reproachful, “Yes.”
It sounds uneven and faltering.
The grim realization of what he’d just gotten himself off to has drenched him like a sudden cold wave, and L curls into himself, face half-buried in the unfamiliar sheets. He has successfully managed not to stain his clothing; there is a neatly folded wad of soiled tissues loosely held between his fingers. His free hand is brought to rest against his lips. He feels no sense of victory.
L had been fine not to see Light’s face the way Light had been longing for L’s, but right now what he aches for is a warm side to wedge himself into.
“Yeah, good,” Light hurriedly says, so that there would be no mistaking what he’d meant with his question. “I know it was… a bit weird, huh? I mean - I'm not judging you on that. I started it, remember?” No answer. “L?”
In response he hears something so strange - a distant, muted sniffle.
“L…” Light’s heart sinks. “Oh, baby, no. Don't overthink it.”
A tall order for the world’s greatest - and most understimulated - deductive mind.
“This doesn’t mean I actually want to die,” he concludes, like he has himself to convince. L’s voice is not cracking, thankfully, but it is barely above a whisper. He swallows dimly. “Though, you -”
God, Light wishes L would have told him about this stupid trip earlier - as opposed to dropping the news the night before he was already set to leave.
Light should be there with him. Should put L’s head in his lap with his hand in his hair and soothe him as L curls in and stares quietly into nothing; that sweet unreadable blankness on his face, with eyes wide, vacant, and processing, so cute when he is inconceivably stumped.
Then to kiss him all over, special attention paid to the tender collarbone that Light had so viciously brutalized earlier, pressing his tongue into it when he kisses it so gently - would make him feel good all over again; and show him instead why it was worth keeping him alive.
“Well, I don't actually want to kill you,” Light cuts in, a little too hastily. He clears his throat. “There's nothing wrong with… you know. A fantasy. It's fine.”
“Psychologically speaking, there very much is.” L sounds distant; but not physically.
“Well, then, whatever is wrong with you is wrong with me, too.”
“Undeniably.” A pause. “Light.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn't say you want to kill me. You said you will kill me.”
“Hah, I did, huh?” Light flushes red. “I just, you know. Was really caught up in the moment. I won't say that again, if there's a problem with it…”
“The problem was that I was aroused by it.”
“Oh.”
“Mm.”
“Have you ever had thoughts like this before? Like, have you thought about… anyone else killing you?” Light grits out the last part with blood that threatens to boil at the mere concept.
“Not like this, no.”
“Like what?”
“With pleasure.”
“I wouldn't actually kill you. And I wouldn't let anyone else kill you, either.”
“If I ever were to encounter such a monster, I would likely be devoured by it,” L mumbles, heavy with the distraction of abstract thought. “I truly am…-”
“Huh?”
“I will never let anyone, including you, kill me.” L promises assuredly; grasping for solid ground.
Light would love nothing more than to contradict that statement; to taunt and prod and declare that he would win, he would always win, L will always give him what he wants, L has no choice, even if it means death - but the psychological repercussions of their shared delusion evidently are, as of yet, still raw, and so he delicately lets the matter rest.
Instead, they are together in a vacuum void of words, for a moment.
I miss you, Light is almost softened enough to offer into the elapsed silence, but stops himself before he admits defeat. The wound in his pride is still too fresh to allow it. Instead, L is the one to disturb the peace. Light would call it losing - unlike Light, though, L does not consider this part to be a game.
“I want you here.”
“You know I’d get on a plane tomorrow if I could -”
“Watari will pay for the ticket.” The speed at which L delivers this is so assured and naively eager it almost makes Light wince.
“But I can't, with my study schedule.”
“Sure. It would be completely irrational, and irresponsible.” Ever-rational L’s voice now sounds heavy with an unmistakable dejection. “You are exceptionally angry with me over this trip.”
Oh, damn it. Does L think… that's what it had all been about?
Light is all too embarrassed to presently correct that misconception.
Oh, no, you don't understand - I've jerked off to the thought of killing you a lot.
It would probably do them a favor, if he wouldn’t be so mortified by it. L would likely end up being so obsessed with picking Light's brain apart for that little gem, he'd forget to be miserable anymore.
L says, “I didn't intend it.” And his voice develops the subtle fluctuations of a person approaching tears.
No way.
L had better not cry, or Light will throw it all away - university education be damned.
L sniffles again.
God, damn it.
Light can't help heaving out an irritated sigh as he, quite unceremoniously, stuffs his dick back down his pants. He gets up, wipes his hands off, and grabs a laptop, leaving the phone on the couch.
“What are you doing?”
“Damn it, I'm booking a stupid fucking plane ticket.”
“Why?”
“What do you think? You're crying.”
“I'll doubtlessly be finished crying in the time it will take you to get here.”
“So you are crying.”
“No…” Another sniffle. “Light, don’t bother. Not like this. Not when you're angry and resentful.”
“I'm not,” Light barks.
“You sound angry with me. You sound very upset. Hostile, even.”
Hateful.
It lifts some of that fog from his head.
No, I'm not. I’m not. You’re wrong. I don't hate you. I want you dead because I love you. Love you, love you, love you. So much so, I just can't take it. I want you in everything. I want you in every way. I want all of you, every single part. I don't know what else to do with myself.
What good is having a detective for a boyfriend if he can't even deduce that much without Light having to say so?
“I - I’m not… I mean… I…” Light finally sighs, and addresses the root of tension directly. “Why didn't you ask me to come with you? Why didn’t you mention it? If you’d have told me earlier, then I could have worked something out.”
“It never occurred to me.” L sounds regretful. “I’ve never been in a situation where this was…”
“Necessary?”
“I think so. But, uh, it might be, it turns out.”
“Uh-huh?”
“My work isn't up to standard.”
“Oh?”
“So this case is taking longer than I had expected.”
“Mm.”
“I would have preferred it if you were here.”
“Yeah?”
“Then I wouldn't be so distracted by your absence.”
Oh… Light’s icy fortress melts, just a little. “You’ll be coming back to Japan soon, though.”
“Whenever I finish this case.” L’s voice sounds so small and dismal. “I don’t know when that will be.”
“Because you miss me too much to think properly?” Light can’t keep the self-assured smirk from coloring his voice. “Well, hurry up and figure it out. Next time I'll just have to go with you. Just remember to tell me about it, will you?”
“Yes.” L audibly brightens. Then he adds, like he knows he's done something mischievous, “I took your sports jacket with me.”
“I've been looking for that!” Light exclaims. “The black and white one? I love that jacket.” Having something so mundane to be annoyed about now immediately eases their tension. “Damn it. Next time we do this, you'd better be wearing it.”
L hums pleasantly, almost a chuckle. And then says,
“Could you excuse me a moment? I need to clean up.”
“Oh, it's okay. It’s late, and I've got a class in the morning anyway-”
“One moment. I'll come back. Please stay on the line a moment longer,” L insists. It takes all that for it to finally dawn on Light that this phone call is immeasurably precious to L. “Tell me, what did you do today?”
When Light is finished regaling him with the ins and outs of his most uneventful day, he realizes L’s murmurs of mm, uh-huh, and I see have softly died out along the way somewhere. He calls for him, and in return all he hears is a soft, even breath on the other end of the line, something just shy of a snore. He will not be able to tell that L is burrowed into hotel sheets with Light’s black-and-white sports jacket draped over himself, and his face nestled into it.
And L wakes hours later to find that Light has not hung up; comfortably asleep on the other side of the world, in their bed, with the cellphone laid to rest beside him.