Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters. -sigh-
Well, this was originally apart of another story that I gave up on, but- I figured it'd work as a one-shot to. So- here you go.
How could I have let this happen?
L thought as he rocked back and forth in his usual sitting position, his thumbnail wedged between his lips.
I can not believe I let myself fall victim to such a despicable thing as … lust.
He closed his eyes for a moment, searching the back of his eyelids for an answer. A grunt of frustration vibrated against his thumb.
He glanced at the clock out of the corner of his eyes. 5:09am. The fluorescent numbers glowed in the dawn, shining splinters of shadowy red across the bed-side table. The numbers consisted of tiny, parallel lines, many used to make up one digit.
L distracted himself for awhile with the clock, staring at it from the corner of his right eye. When all the fascination he could muster for the object drained away, he was left with contemplating his previous problem.
Just sixteen minutes ago, L awoke from a rather … inappropriate dream. All L could remember was that it was about the auburn-haired boy sleeping silently next to him, and himself. He could remember all the grunts and moans, and the "OH, LIGHT!"s ringing throughout his subconscious. He could also recall his own face; tears streaming down it from the abrupt tearing of his privacy, his fists clenched to the mattress while Light rammed into his frail, lithe body.
L shuddered as the vivid incubus flooded back into his memory, trying to figure out what it all meant; after all, he was the world's greatest detective.
The obvious cause for such a dream as this would be that he was some-what attracted to Light, but he would not accept that. L had come to the conclusion that by being physically attached to the other boy, he had become emotionally attached as well, and his subconscious simply had mistaken this "emotional attachment" for sexual yearning.
L kept telling himself this, knowing all to well that this was the wrong conclusion.
Ever sense the first day he saw the golden-haired boy, his mind had not strayed away from thoughts of him. L would try to shake them away, constantly comforting himself with this lie he had come up with.
Yes, the great detective L, was in denial.
Of course, deep down inside his fragile little body, he knew that he ached for the boy.
And he also knew that this was wrong.
It was bad enough that the object of his affection was another male, but a suspect?
The fact that Light was a suspect for being a mass-murder with a twisted god complex was to blame for the reason L felt so disgusted with himself.
The sun was starting to come up now, light filtrating through the blinds, illuminating half of the other boys face, the opposite obscured in darkness.
He looked Light over incessantly, still sitting in his crouching position, his head turned slightly to the boy still sleeping next to him. L's atramentous eyes darted back and forth, studying the auburn-haired boy that had caused him so much distress.
Light's hair looked as if it was made of aurous, his eyelashes dusted with gold. The calm, dawn-breaking sun made everything look so beautiful, so … pure. It almost made L forget about all of his troubles and worries.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not keep the teen out of his thoughts. The dream he had locked away in his mind bust out, a flash of blurred color and muffled sounds. L was tired of trying to distract himself, now all he wanted to do was focus on the dream, be completely enveloped in it.
He closed his eyes, re-playing it in his head, pin-pointing Lights face the moment he climaxed.
L felt a wave of pleasure wash through his abdomen. He groaned, opening one of his eyes to make sure he didn't wake the other boy.
When he was absolutely positive Light wouldn't wake up anytime soon, L took his hand and started to rub his own chest, his fingertips slowly tracing his almost visible ribs- making himself shiver.
He squeezed his eyes shut, getting lost in the memory of the divine dream. He moved his fingers up his chest, flicking his nipples in an almost masochistic way. Violent vibrations roamed freely over his body, rippling down into his crotch. He took his free hand and slipped it underneath the waistband of his jeans, wrapping his long, skeletal fingers around his now throbbing length. It turned to stone under his fingers, L still hopelessly lost in his own mind. He took his forefinger and started to rub his head in circular motions, then taking the single finger and moving it across his shaft, his nail dragging in slightly. A quiet whimper escaped the boy's lips, the pain felt good to L.
He rubbed faster, trying to keep focused on Light's face in his memory. He stifled a moan with his own will, trying to keep as still as possible as not to wake the boy next to him. He pinched his nipple hard when he reached his climax, drawing blood. He felt cum flowing down his hand, his other still on his bleeding nipple. He took both of his hands and rubbed them together, mixing the substances, the chain clicking slightly. He brought them up to his mouth and licked the mixture of blood and semen off.
He lay still for a few moments, breathing heavily.
His eyes snapped open, a sense of realization coming over him. He shot a glance at the clock, 6:24am. Just twenty six minutes until the alarm was set to go off.
L stood up, and looked down. His chest was bloodied, while his hands were covered with his own bodily fluids. He smacked his lips and cringed, remembering the disgusting compulsion while in a moment of pure exhilaration.
His eyes followed the chain to the golden-haired boy, and sighed.
"Look at what you're doing to me" He whispered to the still sleeping Light.
He figured it would be safe enough to unchain himself from Light, since he desperately needed a shower. He took a sticky hand and reached into his pocket, extracting a little key. The silver on the key shimmered in the dawn while L turned it to unlock his cuff. The cuff fell, bouncing off the rug and onto the hard-wood floors, making a distant clanking noise.
He walked over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, He carefully removed his clothing with unbearably sticky hands, and they fell to the ground. He turned the knob to cold and stepped in. Cold shower, L thought, how insufferably cliché.
The cool water washed over him, sending an incessant chill down his spine. He became almost numb under the frigid liquid.
All the blood and semen were washed away from L, going down the drain along with all the abashed and profane activities of that morning.
And L wondered, while the cold washed over him, whether he would be able to stay away from the golden-haired boy forever.
The answer he was looking for, was no.
Sorry if it was a bit confusing- like I said, it was a chapter out of another story.
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