Author's Note: NOT EDITED BY ANY MEANS. AND THIS STORY IS DIRTY. REALLY DIRTY. I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF IT SHOULD BE UP HERE. AND THERE IS BLOOD. i lyk capslock. hopefully people don't mind the dirty and the blood. i don't read here very much so i don't know how "far" the rating M goes. maybe nc-17. it should be that. ;D

still sorry it's not edited. if you notice anything that really bothers you, leave me a review and i'll be sure to fix it. i just wanted to get it up here, and i hate editing. i need a beta. so they can edit for me. and i hate formatting. i hate uselessness.

Disclaimer: NOT MYNE. ;D they don't even actually exist. KAWAIIIII.omgsodirty. maybe i shouldn't post this. 8O

Light had never watched him this closely before, normally intent on avoiding his eyes and staring venially at his computer screen, a blinding light in a dark room. Behind an impassive expression, his mind was racing as usual, trying to be one step ahead of the boy he was perpetually staring at. He shifted, the handcuffs clinking between them, looking away as L took a sidelong glance at his evil counterpart. They were like day and night, yin and yang, but it wasn't so obvious which was which. In the lengthening battle between Kira and L, a stand on morality was growing. It was turning into a battle of good against evil. The hard part to discern was: What was good? And what was evil? And which side would you take?

His spine was arched, the gentle curvature exposing many vertebrae through his baggy white shirt as he stretched. His knees were curled up to his chin, settling next to the angular jaw of his pale face. Long, awkward fingers reached idly for a powdered donut, eyes still fixed on the screen in front of him. Taking a large bite, he licked the powder off of his pale lips, thin and pink like a soft line, making a sticky sound in his throat as he swallowed. His toes were curled over the edge of his chair, on top of which he perched like a scruffy, old bird that never slept and ate so much sugar you would think that he had contracted diabetes. His wide, dark eyes showed the agony of his sleeplessness, bottomless like long, empty wells, easy to fall in and you better be able to climb like hell if you wanted to get out. His hair was dirty, messier than usual, sticking out at severe angles and in need of a wash. The donut was pinched between his forefinger and thumb in front of him, and he set it down only to bring his thumb to his mouth. Light was sure the extremity tasted like sugar.

"Raito-kun...What are you staring at?"

The malignant bird had turned to face him, and Light felt as if his doleful, sad eyes were eating him whole, a million hands with spindly fingers grabbing him and stuffing him into those black, viscous orbs where he would suffocate forever. He felt mildly claustrophobic, even though the room was spacious and almost empty.

God, he hated L. But there was something about his brilliance that made him beautiful..irresistible. Penetrating. Sometimes it took all Light could to avoid slamming him down on his back and punching him until his nose bled, before kissing him with horrible thoughts about the moment after.

"Nothing, really. You just look a little, well, exhausted."
"Oh."

He could tear him to pieces right then, swallow him whole and throw him up again. Something he'd always wanted to see was L's blood, and often he had wondered vaguely if it would be bright and red, hot and sticky, or cold and blue like L's veins through his paper thin skin. Of course, Light knew that all blood was red, but coming from L he wouldn't be surprised if he leaked blood like water, was immortal, never ending.

"I do look a little..Hngh. Disheveled."

The thumb remained on L's lip, tracing the soft skin there, gazing pertinently at Light through those painful, hungry eyes. Light felt his heart skip, mind blindly searching to find out what had suddenly gone wrong with him. What had happened that made him weak in front of L? What about the detective rendered him helpless? Human?
Light watched L stand up. Looking down at him with a mischievous little grin, L removed his thumb from his mouth. Light, suddenly growing nervous with the idea that L could read his mind, stood up as well, seeing as he had no choice. They were attached, after all.

"I think I'm going to take a shower," L said, staring at the whirling fan overhead thoughtfully, hunched in his familiar, awkward stance that was somehow achingly alluring.
Light's eyes widened sporadically. It had been two days since the handcuffs had been applied, and he'd already avoided going to the bathroom for several hours as a result of the last time, when L had precariously balanced himself on the edge of the sink and actually /watched/ him take a leak.

But was that really what unsettled Light about being temporarily stuck with L? No.

It was the way L made his palms sweat, heat corrode in his stomach and made his mouth dry. Light had trouble keeping himself under control, and that made him sick. He was Kira, and he couldn't handle a little accusation from a human being?

The truth was, he couldn't handle accusation from L.

And he would break him for it.

Light allowed himself to be lead towards the bathroom, following L's long strides as he loped slowly in front of him. Already, Light was swiftly calculating, planning, and yet, he was still uncertain what to do. With L, he didn't know how to react logically when it had always come naturally to him. He was certain L knew this, or at least, after these first few hours of confinement, he'd noticed it. A burning hatred mingled with admiration and jealousy was festering deep in Light's throat. There had to be a way to make L fall apart like he was, pump him full of hell-bent rage and lust until he truly understood Light. He needed to destroy him from the inside out until he cowered at Kira's feet like the rest of the world and begged him to stop. Here came the opportunity.

"Ryuzaki..?"
"Hngh?"
"How are you going to take a shower if I'm..well, here?"

L scratched an ankle with the base of his foot as they paused in front of the bathroom door.

"I figured you'd just stand and wait."

Light let out a small, tender laugh before replying.
"Alright."

He cast a seemingly dazed, but well-trained eye upwards after they entered. He could hear L's zipper, the rustle of denim as jeans were removed. The material of the shirt whispered next, the sound traveling sweetly up to Light's acute ear, making his fingers twitch and his body grow tense and restless. He felt his arm being tugged as L approached the shower and pulled the curtain back, testing the water before stepping in. Light caught a glimpse of a leanly muscled back, which surprised him slightly, wondering how such a compact body could be hidden in a disheveled array of clothes. Now he only had to wait.

One minute passed, and the steam fogged up the small mirror Light was facing, and he watched until the glint in his malicious eyes disappeared, clouded from view. He shifted a bit, and took in a deep, impregnable breath. Grasping the chain firmly, he tugged hard, the response from L in the form of a soft grunt as he was flung into the shower curtain, pulling out a few rings so it hung lopsidedly.

Light was almost surprised when he saw L completely naked. Indeed, the picture had caught him off guard. He was pale and thin, but each muscle was hard and sinewy, as if he was born that way. One hand grasped the shower curtain, another had latched onto Light's arm, the curvature of his shoulders and biceps wet with hot water. Droplets clung to the ends of his hair, dripping down his nose and hanging on desperately to his pale-pink lips as if it killed them to let go. L's hip-bones protruded ever so slightly on either side of wet, dark curls that trailed from his belly-button to his length. L's familiar toes curled, mind working rapidly, attempting to assess the situation. Light, seeing this, charged into the shower and pinned L against the cold linoleum of the wall, determined to keep L's mind numb and useless.

There was a significant struggle on L's part, but it was as if he didn't entirely want to keep Light away, and he could have easily kicked him in the face with a well-trained foot. But he had punched Light instead, and watched the blood trickle hot and red from his nose. The tender skin around L's right eye was steadily purpling from the return blow, dealt by a false god with a set of five sharp knuckles. There was a lot of quiet noise in a disturbing struggle for power, a series of grunts and heated thuds, but it was only a few minutes later that L's hands hung limply by his sides, Light's lips pressed firmly against those of his nemesis. The water had soaked through Light's clothing, hair plastered to his smooth, clear forehead, his shirt sticking readily to his thin stomach.

Light found the urge to pull L apart overwhelming. He wanted to dissect him, open up his abdomen and look at the throbbing organs, the pulsing blood, just to make sure that L was real. To reveal to the rest of the world that he was human, that he could die like everyone else.

Light pulled away briefly to allow his counterpart to breathe, but the only thing he got from the soggy, naked creature beneath him, for indeed L looked more like an animal than a human when he was like this, was a pair of black, heavy lidded eyes staring at him from some deep crypt in the bottom of L's soul. Slowly, the boy pressed a pale thumb to his own lips. L was just challenging him. Challenging /the/ Kira, as usual, nothing had changed, nothing that Light had wanted to come out of this episode was going to come, and it infuriated him. Just when he thought he could win, just when he thought his need to evade, struggle, and hide had dissipated, it returned almost as soon as it had gone in the form of this...well...Equal.

"Raito-kun. What are you waiting for?"

Light let out a pained, gurgling scream, before grabbing L's soft, wet neck and slamming his head against the opposite wall. He crushed his mouth to L's again, tasting blood. L responded abruptly, despite his own wounds, biting Light's lip with the intent of drawing blood, in a sickening display of twisted pleasure for both. A thin trail of red leaked between their mouths, down Light's chin, mixing with saliva and dripping in watered-down pink droplets onto the floor of the tub. Light dully noticed sharp pains in his arched back, as L's fingernails broke blood vessels, a hot moan escaping his throat.

Light grabbed a fist full of L's wet hair, tilting his head to the side to expose frail, damageable skin there. He let his tongue run down L's neck in gentle, teasing streaks before he clamped his teeth down in a sadistic display of affection. He sucked on L's sharp collarbone to leave a large, purpling mark to match the rest of L's previous bruises and foreshadowing those more to come. It was as if Light was claiming something, something that was his, that had to belong to him before he could kill it. L was special. He couldn't /just/ kill him like he did everyone else. His only rival in the world just happened to be beautiful, a prodigy, the only thing that had ever mattered and had ever posed a threat.

By now Light's cock was throbbing, pressed against L's leg. His clothes were thoroughly soaked, and he did not hesitate to remove them. With a little help from L's itching fingers, he pulled off his shirt and dropped it with a wet slap, pulling of his pants and boxers in one swift motion immediately after.

He pushed L to the wet floor, water dripping into his eyes, nose and mouth. Light had never seen anything that was so beautiful, bloody, and dangerous at the same time. It overwhelmed his senses and all he could think about was shoving his length in that pretty little mouth. He was completely out of control, not thinking, not calculating, just doing, and it was so wrong. His previously well-calculated plan had completely disappeared when he saw his rival in the form of a panting, bruised, bleeding pile, soft mouth open, waiting for a throbbing heat that was hovering inches above his parted lips. Unable to wait any longer, he thrust his hard cock forcibly down L's throat, trying to choke him, but from the other he was unable to get even a gag. L simply opened wide and let him enter, as Light buried his hands in L's hair and moved in and out between his lips, now red with blood from a thin cut, and bruising from applied pressure.

Heat pooled in Light's stomach, feeling the wet stroke of L's tongue up and down the length of his cock, shivers running up and down his spine, the feeling heightened by the angry red welts where L's fingers had been. He'd never felt this good, not with any of the girls he had ever been with, and there were a fair few. There was something about L's ability to dominate without struggle, to give up completely but by doing so come out on top in any situation, that made /this/ better. It was just the way L was.
"God, I hate you," Light whispered, barely audible over the noise of the shower. He could feel L's chuckle around his cock as his preoccupied lips cracked into a small smile. Light reveled in his own suffering, possibly enjoying it even more than the pain that had caused L to squirm helplessly beneath him.

An ancient battle had awoken between them. Good vs Evil, the passive vs the aggressive, Mahatma Ghandi vs Malcom X. Both tried to achieve good, but only one could choose the correct path. The other traversed a dark, visceral road that swallowed them whole until their sole thoughts were those devoted to a plan, the one thing that they had to continue even though their hearts told them it was wrong. It was an addiction worse than heroin. Not only was Light buried deep up to his neck in his own brand of genocidal sand, he was clinging to L so lovingly and desperately that the raven-haired vigilante would suffocate and die along with him.

Pulling L up in his arms, the shower water slowly going cold, (as of now it was an uncomfortable luke-warm), Light roughly bit and kissed the tender parts of L's neck, each turning red and hot with the added pressure and obvious pain. L's long, awkward arms were drawn about Light's shoulders in a weak embrace. Not only was he suffocating in a vast, endless desert with Light, he seemed he would rather be there than anywhere else. He even loved traversing this metaphorical, hellish wasteland with his only friend. He was smart enough to know that his days were numbered. Why not live them? Enjoy them? Enjoy being bruised and battered in the only way Light knew how to love?

Enjoy Light.

And he was. His erection and flushed cheeks were proof that there was a God and his God was Light. Soon he would be dead and there was no way to stop it, and his heart and his mind were as malleable as hot noodles in the presence of his Kami, his God, his everything.

Light spread L's legs apart as far as they would go in such a limiting space and forced him to bend over by grabbing a fistful of his wet, dripping hair. He slipped a thumb he had briefly wet with his spit into L's entrance, hot and waiting for something much larger and more fulfilling to enter.

L moaned and fitfully embraced Light's neck with his thin arms, standing at an odd angle with his back to Light and his foot propped on the side of the tub. The bathroom floor was flooded with water stained pink from their previous struggles.

Three fingers later, surprisingly gentle in the wake of God's wrath, L was thoroughly prepared for Light's waiting length that pressed heatedly against that soft, puckered sphere, wet with shower water. Light slid in, gentle and slow, grabbing L's erection in his right hand and methodically pumping in time with his meticulous, almost sluggishly tired thrusts. The climax of this demented intercourse wasn't the actual sex, but the preceding fight. Who had won for the time being? And would he, ultimately, lose the war?

Now, the caresses became something more definable, something separate from complete, off-color rage. L was on his knees, Light crouching above him and digging nails into his back as he came closer and closer to his breaking point, shuddering and heaving, eyes half-closed in an ecstasy that wouldn't ever leave him. There wouldn't be any way to forget L. He would never love or hate anything as much as he did the slim, pale creature he had reduced to a quivering, pleasure-wracked pile before him. Nothing would taste as sweet, and no murder he ever committed would give him the feeling of power he had now.

"Raito..."

It was the first word that had been spoken in over fifteen minutes, since the last "I-Hate-You's" were viciously spat. L's body had gone rigid, and he moaned luxuriously, arching his back like a cat. Hot ribbons of cum spilled into Light's hand and mingled with the now-cold droplets of water squirting from the shower head. Digging his sticky palms into L's hips, Light rammed into his small, tender hole and came inside of him, uttering nothing but a satisfied grunt and hanging his head.

Minutes passed before they moved. Light watched the droplets fall from his hair onto L's perfect back, and ran a hand up and down the gentle curvature of his body as if he was frightened he would forget what it felt like. He pulled out, his own cum trickling down L's leg.

He shut the faucet.

There was silence.

They dried themselves off, the chain between them shorter than ever and cutting into their wrists like never before. Light didn't look at L. L didn't look at Light. After they had both pulled on their clothes, L opened the door without examining his wounds. He could do that back in their room.

"Raito-kun...Your odds."

Light blinked for a minute, staring at him with his swollen, red mouth slack.

"What odds..."

"The odds that you are Kira. Now I'm 10 percent sure."

Light snorted, before he volleyed back sarcastically.

"Ryuzaki, you always did get the best of me."