Chapter Two

"Don't knock masturbation, it's sex with someone I love." – Woody Allen

Light was ignoring L.

Put that way, it made him seem a nine-year-old kid with a petty grudge and a cold shoulder he wasn't afraid to use, caught in a fight of huffy anger and "You're not my friend anymore!" – but when L got like he was now, Light didn't have many options.

To be specific, when L deliberately went out of his way to irritate Light – more than usual, at least – there were only a few ways to deal with him: ignore him, get away from him, punch him, or have sex with him.

Getting away from him was out, because L was currently stretched out on one side of the bed in which Light intended to sleep, clacking away noisily on his laptop like a demented farm animal. One of his feet had even wandered over to rest on Light's pillow, something he knew he wasn't allowed to do and was definitely doing for that exact reason. And while Light could leave and go sleep on the sofa, he refused to be bullied out of his own bed simply because L had decided to act like a passive-aggressive twit.

The next option, punching him, would have been very satisfying and made Light feel quite a bit better, but in this instance it would be playing directly into L's hands, so it was out as well. Light was very aware that L was purposely goading him, trying to get him to react, so he took vicious pleasure in not indulging his games.

As for fucking with him, it probably would have been the best solution if not for the fact that sex was the entire reason L was acting like an annoying ass in the first place. Ever since the events at the restaurant, five days ago, Light had refused to even so much as look at L's dick, let alone do anything else with it, and it was having rather obvious effects on L – the most noticeable of which were the unresolved horniness and the childish desire to irritate Light until he gave in.

"Light-kun, were you aware that having frequent sex decreases your physiological age? It's very healthy, apparently."

Light shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in the closet, determined to ignore his persistent boyfriend and his attempts to provoke him.

"It also decreases stress. Are you not often stressed, Light-kun?"

His socks were next, right then left, flung with infallible aim into a wicker basket, given more care than that which he gave his boyfriend's words.

"It says here that sex also boosts the immune system. Light-kun! I think I may be getting sick! We ought to have sex, don't you think?"

Light didn't speak, but he thought he made his answer very clear by grabbing a clean pair of boxers and stomping into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him – in a very dignified manner, of course.

Yes, L was annoying, particularly when he hadn't had sex for five days and was determined to get under Light's skin, one way or another – but it was nothing Light couldn't handle. L simply needed to be taught that there were consequences to certain actions – such as jerking Light off in the middle of a restaurant. That would be considered a 'problem behavior'. He was like a puppy, in need of conditioning to know right from wrong. Punishment and reward – a doggie treat or a bop on the head. Taking away sex was a punishment in the hopes L would learn not to be such a dickwad.

Though if Light were being honest, cutting L off from sex had a lot less to do with training and a whole lot more to do with getting revenge. L was unlikely to learn any sort of lesson except perhaps that Light got off really quickly to public almost-sex, which was unlikely to discourage him from anything, and revenge was just much more satisfying.

Not to mention, revenge was what Light did best.

Ignoring the door-muffled voice still listing the numerous health benefits of a rigorous sex life, Light stripped his clothes from his body and stepped into the shower. It was time to escalate the game, and despite what annoyingly pat and clichéd phrases might suggest, revenge was a dish best served hot, wet, and with plenty of lube.

That last one was optional.

L was frustrated.

Yes, he meant sexually – not intellectually, professionally, or in any way that implied anything other than that he was horny and hadn't got any action for five days, not even a friendly pat on the bum or something. Or, for that matter, a friendly pat anywhere on the body. And after having spent so long becoming accustomed to fucking Light practically every night, it was little hard to go back to the inadequate solace of his right hand.

That wasn't to say L regretted his actions at the restaurant. No, he'd do it all again in half a heartbeat. What he regretted was having the sort of boyfriend who could swing from shameless porn star to more uptight than the most prudish of disapproving nuns at the drop of a pair of trousers. Or the drop of an ill-advised public handjob, depending on which extreme he was swinging to. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

When he was in his right mind, L would admit that this was part of what made Light fascinating.

The problem was, at the moment L wasn't in his right mind – he was terribly frustrated and edging towards desperate. Usually he could recognize that these games were what made sex with Light so fun, but that was when he wasn't at the end of a five-day dry spell that was steadily cutting away all his reasoning ability.

Because that was what this was – a game. It was a way of testing and challenging each other, of pushing and teasing each other, and usually L wouldn't have changed it for all the cake in the world (well, perhaps half the cake in the world).

It may have seemed, on the surface, that Light had simply cut L off, and that was the end of it until he decided he wasn't mad anymore, but L knew there was more to it than that. It wasn't immediately obvious, but Light was slowly building the tension between them, with everything from his innocently provocative sprawl on the sofa as he lazily blew through his homework to his sly, under-the-lashes glances of want something, bastard? that he tossed around whenever L's gaze got too heavy.

It was partially to torment L, yes, and partially because Light was pissed about the restaurant, but it wasn't as straightforward as Light simply refusing to have sex. A game had been started, with L making the first bold move in the secluded booth and Light picking up the challenge, and it would probably be weeks before the game was all played out.

But for now, they were stuck in the stage of Light's move, in which he decided to be a drama queen and completely ban sex, and while L admitted it was building up quite a bit of tension, it really wasn't much fun at the moment. He knew it would eventually be worth it – anticipation was half the fun, and if anyone understood that better than Light, it was L – but it was hard to remember that when it had been five days without a lick of sex.

Until Light made his move, L was trapped in a sort of sexual limbo, which was why he had taken to trying to irritate Light out of his 'no sex' stage. So far it hadn't been working very well. In fact, most of the time it just backfired on him.

So when he'd heard the shower click on and water race through the walls to pour itself over his lover's body, L had decided the situation called for cake. Otherwise he'd sit there and do nothing more productive than imagine Light with hot water streaming down his body, rubbing his hands all over himself as he slickened himself up with lather and liquid and-


L was getting cake. If not, he'd shortly find himself in the shower, probably still completely clothed, pushing Light against the water knobs and trying to suck his soul out of him via his mouth. And while that would certainly be very enjoyable, it would also mean losing the game, something which wasn't acceptable this early on. And L's clothes would get wet.

So L closed up his laptop and put it gingerly away under the bed, then shambled into the kitchen for a slice of cake.

Three slices of cake later, L was feeling a bit better. The shower had been shut off a little while ago, and he had barely spent even a minute picturing Light bending over to towel off his legs, rubbing the soft cloth over his smooth, toned skin, shaking his hair free from clinging water droplets, or with his hands wandering around his dried body, searching for missed spots of wetness and getting distracted between his legs-


L was eating cake. He was not thinking about Light. He was certainly not thinking about Light spread out on the kitchen table with cake smeared all over his body, icing rubbed around hardened nipples waiting to be licked off, dipping into his bellybutton and trailing down lower, bronze skin dirtied by smeared cake, a dark red strawberry trapped between his teeth with a tempting trail of sweet juice sneaking to run down his neck and-

Oh bother.

L sliced himself another piece of the finest cheesecake Japan had to offer, flung it on his plate, and meandered back towards the bedroom. He figured he might as well see if there was a case he with which he could distract himself, as cake alone did not seem to be cutting it.

What he found in the bedroom did not seem very conducive to his current plans for distraction. L found he didn't really care.

Because Light, clad only in a pair of short boxers that were revealing toned, beautiful thighs, was sprawled in an inviting lounge propped up against the headboard on L's side of the bed – knees bent provocatively, both feet planted on smooth sheets and just wide enough apart to give L an excellent view. His head was tilted back against the tall headboard, and his hands were playing teasingly with his body, one rubbing at a semi-hard nipple and the other brushing up and down his upper thigh.

"Unnngh…" L said from where he'd frozen in the doorway, which he felt summed up his thoughts on the matter rather nicely. He blinked to make sure the scene before him wasn't a desperation-induced hallucination.

It wasn't.

Light's eyes, softly closed a moment before, slid open halfway to regard L with a sort of hazy arrogance L had always found particularly appealing. Especially if it made an appearance right before L fucked him. That was always nice.

L's intentions must have shown on his face, because-

"Don't take another step in here or I'll stop," Light commanded in a barely breathless voice, throaty and authoritative.

L's feet grew roots – all the way down to the apartment five floors below theirs. Nothing but cake could have moved him, and he already had cake in hand.

At another time, L might have tried pushing the boundaries by taking not just one step, but also the nine more required to reach the bed and pounce on Light – but that wasn't part of the current game, and L recognized that if he moved even an inch farther into the bedroom before Light was ready, Light would almost certainly just roll over and go to sleep. Well, there was a ninety-nine percent chance of that happening; the one percent wasn't worth risking it.

So L took an absentminded lick of icing from his cake and watched in great interest as Light's long fingers fiddled with his nipples, tweaking and pinching and generally doing everything L would want to do if he could. Stroking, rubbing – slowly and steadily tormenting his own body, and had L's fingers not been occupied with his plate of cake, they would have been twitching in desire.

"Mmn…" Light moaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut.

His breath was coming in controlled, heavy pants, his chest rising evenly up into his pinching hand as his other slipped upwards to skim along the waistband of his boxers. Slim fingers disappeared up to the middle knuckles beneath the cloth as his hand dragged across his stomach, back and forth teasingly, reappearing moments later to push along his leg once more. His eyes flashed open occasionally to shoot burning lines of amber up L's body, darting away again when his own fingers pulled his attention back to himself with a hard twist of a raised nipple or a gentle caress of a rounded hipbone peeking out of clothed obscurity.

And one of his knees was falling open more and more, drawing L's gaze irresistibly to the center of his legs, where Light's playing was beginning to take noticeable effect.

Light was getting hard – his cock stiffening and pressing into his underwear, the restrained covering creating a suggestion made more obscene by the way imagination took over and filled in the details.

Light's hand abandoned his abused nipples, leaving them red from too-long distress, and tripped down his stomach to pass along the front of his boxers in a teasing brush.

"Mmmnhh," he hummed in pleasure, his eyes drifting shut and both hands slowing to a stop. He stayed perfectly still, save for the even, gentle rise and fall of his chest. L was barely aware of his own held breath, silent as he watched Light tune in with his own body and acknowledge the pleasure of his hardening cock with nothing but softly parted lips and heavier than normal breaths of air.

Then, slowly, Light let a hand slide up along a toned thigh to rest just next to the bulge of his cock. It rubbed, barely any movement at all, and a soft sigh slipped out of his throat. A little harder, his palm kneading downwards, then his hand was directly in the center, massaging and pressing with steady insistence.

And L suddenly realized his own cock was pressing painfully against the roughness of his jeans and had been for some time. Shifting his plate of cake to one hand, he began rubbing himself gently, watching unwaveringly as Light did the same on the bed but with the breathtaking flair of a practiced whore.

"Aaahh…" Light sighed, eyes gliding shut, his hips beginning to rock ever so slightly into his hand as it stroked him with growing pressure.

L's hand rubbed harder as well, his eyes flickering along the tensing lines of Light's legs, on the smooth pulse of his hips, on the pulled lines in the sheets as his feet dug into the bed.

"Hah, hah, hah…" Light's breathing was getting harsher and harsher, quiet, throaty moans sneaking out every so often. His hips were moving faster and faster, rolling upwards as his hand massaged downwards, the muscles in his legs and stomach flexing and pulling as he grinded into his hand.

"Oh god," he said softly, his voice shaking a little.

His other hand was clutching at the loosened sheets beneath him, as though searching for something to ground him, steady him, and his rubbing was quickly gaining intensity, his boxers full and getting damp.

"Hah, hah, hah…"

Light was gorgeous like this, an untamed force of nature, wild and uninhibited but powerful and in control at the same time. It was intoxicating to watch, especially when L remembered the countless times he himself had been able to erode away that masterful control, to watch Light fall apart beneath his hands.

L slipped his hand inside his jeans and squeezed himself tightly, his eyes locked on Light's hips rocking up into his own palm. And oh, how he wanted to touch, but he knew it wasn't the time – that the game didn't allow for that yet – so he waited breathlessly and watched as he squeezed and stroked himself, his cock and hand both brushing against the coarse denim of his jeans.

Suddenly Light's hand was stopping, moving away from the bulge in his underwear, and L would have protested had he not realized its new purpose.

Light grasped each side of the waistband of his boxers and began slowly peeling them away, gently shimmying his hips out and revealing the sloped planes of his pelvis and the jutting arrogance of his cock, his body worming farther down the bed. Then he tossed the shorts away and swept his legs open wide, leaning back onto his elbows wearing nothing but air and a thin glaze of sweat, exposing all of himself for L's appraisal.

And L could have killed him – could have kissed him – for extending such a blatant invitation with his body while making it clear with his burning, taunting eyes that if L took even a step forward he would lose the game.

Bloody gorgeous bastard.

L rubbed himself harder.

Light's hips began to rock again, slow, smooth circles, his legs carelessly apart, one hand sneaking up to torment his nipples once again. Damn him; he knew exactly what turned L into a mess of hormones and unsteady breathing.

Light's own breath was faltering now, gasping and sighing and panting with each pinch of his peaked, reddened nipple – then he was on his back and his other hand was snaking downwards, grazing against his hipbone, past his cock to squeeze and play with his tightening ball sac, rubbing and rolling it between supple fingers, and L really wished those talented fingers would go just a little lower.

But they didn't. In fact, they wandered away again, away from Light's body, over to slip under L's pillow – his pillow? – and L couldn't figure out what they thought they were doing, because as far as he knew there was nothing of interest hiding under his pillow.

But it seemed he was wrong.

Because somehow or other, a bottle of lube had wound up under there – perhaps left by some benevolent sex fairy – and that was all it took to set his imagination on fire.

Lube was good. L liked lube. Lube could be used for many things, but it was especially helpful for slickening up fingers and other long, cylindrical objects for the purpose of sticking them in tight holes.

L wondered if perhaps Light should be reminded of this practical application.

Light's eyes flickered up to him in smoldering suggestion, and L decided it wasn't necessary.

L would have to make sure to thank those sex fairies later.

Light was enjoying himself a bit more than he perhaps should have.

Not that the whole purpose of masturbation wasn't for pleasure and enjoyment – but he often forgot just how hot it made him to have L's heavy, dark eyes on him as he touched his own body, and he forgot how thrilling it was to exert control over his boyfriend in this manner, to force him to watch without touching as he gave himself pleasure. That probably made him harder than anything his hands could have done.

Speaking of hands, his were currently busy lubing themselves up, dribbling the sweet-scented oil across his long, outstretched fingers. He knew L was watching intently, rubbing himself distractedly as his eyes soaked in every line of Light's body, and the thought just spurred him on more.

When his hands were sufficiently slick, he took the bottle and drizzled some lube along his chest, his stomach, his hips, his cock, his heated skin flaring in contact with the cold liquid. Then he tossed the bottle away and let his hands begin to rub and wander, smearing it into his skin.

Difficult as it was, he ignored the area between his legs for now, his cock crying to be touched, throbbing even harder whenever he felt L's gaze focus on it.

But he ignored it, the urge to grasp it and stroke it, to finally connect skin-to-heated-skin. The anticipation was making him begin to tremble just a little, as were the light touches of his hands as they rubbed along his torso, sweeping occasionally against nipples which had been worked to hypersensitivity, each brush sending a jolt of heat to his groin.

"Ahh…" he sighed, slipping further down into delight.

His eyes drifted shut, and the rustle of sheets and creak of the bed and his own harshening breathing were all he could hear - but L's presence in the room was unavoidable, his gaze a finger's brush against Light's skin wherever it lingered. Light spread his legs open a little farther, his knees still pointing to the ceiling and obscenely wide apart, and his head twisted to the side as both slick hands paused to pinch his nipples one last time, hard.

It pulled a gasp from his lips and he arched up into his fingers, but he didn't give himself time to focus on the burst of painful pleasure.

Instead, both hands began sliding down his torso, leaving two lines of prickling nerves, over his hips and onto his thighs. One slick hand slipped inwards, cupping tightly for a moment, then sneaked downwards to let a slender finger circle his hole.

Briefly, he wondered if L knew he was making that odd groaning noise as he watched.

Then he decided it didn't matter and slipped the finger in as far as it would go.

"Oh god, L," his throat moaned before he could stop it, and his eyes opened to find L already across the room, clambering up on the bed and kneeling between his legs with hungry eyes and snapped restraint.

Light grinned.

"Don't even think about touching," he whispered in a heated rush of air, his finger still deep inside himself.

L froze, his hands inches away from connecting with Light's legs and throwing them all the way open. Light could feel the heat from his fingertips leaping across the gap and dancing along his skin, but he held L's gaze unwaveringly.

Black eyes considered. Their bodies were so close, their heartbeats connecting and their breath reaching out to diffuse into the air together, but that was all – just heat and electricity and almost.

Then pale fingers withdrew and L settled into his favorite crouch between Light's spread knees. He nodded in understanding, and Light let his finger begin to move.

He pulled it in and out slowly, his hips rocking slighting down to meet it each time, his eyes watching L watch him. His arm brushed along his cock with each deepening thrust, the pressure building within him, quick, shallow gasps slipping out of his lips. His cock twitched a little as it bobbed freely in the air.

In, and in, and in, and in, fucking himself leisurely, each thrust punctuated by a smooth recoil of his hips and pleasured pant of his breath - and the best part was the pair of gleaming black eyes devouring the whole process.

His other hand slipped down to the bed, tightening against cool sheets, the oil turning them damp against his hand.

L's intent eyes were making his blood burn so he pushed a second finger in, a grin fighting its way to his lips as he heard the catch in the other man's breath. His whole body was arching and rocking into his hand, harder and faster, L's eyes never leaving him, tingling heat beginning to dominate all throughout his nerves, and right when he felt close to breaking he suddenly sat up, shoved L down on the bed and climbed on top of him with a breathless grin.

A few inches farther back and L's head would have slipped off the mattress, but Light didn't think either of them really would have minded or even noticed, because at that moment he began grinding himself against L's crotch, rough denim unable to hide the hard cock beneath.

"Ah, ah, ahhh…" L panted, any surprise in his expression swallowed up by sudden, intense satisfaction, and Light just ground his hips harder in response. His lips were hovering a bare inch above L's, his breath harsh against the other's lips as he swallowed L's gasps of pleasure, L's eyes burning black embers beneath him.

Those black eyes were trapped with his, glazed with lust, challenging him to close that last inch between them and let their lips and tongues mesh like they were burning to do.

And Light grinned wickedly and pulled away.

He pulled his rolling hips away from L's desperate ones and hovered on all fours above L, who was now glaring at him in half-confusion, half-frustration.

His hands moved to lightly push L's shirt up a bit higher, baring pale skin and smooth lines. Then he settled in so he was sitting on L's waistline, his knees spread wide on either side of his hips.

"Watch, L," he commanded in a husky whisper.

And L watched as he began stroking himself, sliding his hand up and down along his cock, his hips rocking gently and steadily into his fist. His cock was alight with sensation, too sensitive and too close to the edge, and he knew he was hurtling towards completion as he gasped and moaned and stroked himself harder and harder, his own eyes eating up the blatant desire burning in L's.

Between his legs he could feel L trembling, could feel his barely restrained passion, could see in his storm-black eyes the longing to shove Light against the mattress, toss his legs open and drive deep inside, fucking him over and over with rough snaps of hips as he pinned him to the bed. But Light knew he wouldn't – because this was Light's turn, Light's move, Light's rules, Light's revenge, and L would just have to wait his goddamn turn.

And it was that knowledge - the knowledge that L was shaking with desire but wouldn't move because Light's burning eyes prohibited him from doing anything but laying there and trembling and watching - that finally dragged Light over the edge.

L's name rolled off his tongue with a gasp as tremors overtook him, his cock twitching in his hand and shooting his cum in messy lines across L's stomach, one after another, and he could barely stay upright as his orgasm ran its tremulous course throughout his body.

"Mmnhhnaahh! …hah, hah, L!"

It was beautiful, it was intense, and it was something of a power high as his blood sang and his nerves exploded in uncontrolled pleasure as he rode out his climax on top of L, his hips still rolling even as his legs trembled in unsteady support.

Then it was over. He found himself slipping back down into awareness, his breath slowing and deepening and his eyes sliding to flicker over L's desperate form, a grin creeping back onto his face.

Slowly, slowly, he scooted backwards and lowered himself so his face was hovering over L's cum-splattered stomach. He was very aware of the heated, hard flesh restrained beneath him and the slight quivers shuddering through his lover's body, but he was careful not to put any stimulating weight on L's crotch.

Then, with his eyes locking on L's and not straying, he slowly slipped his tongue out and began licking up his cum from L's stomach.

L's skin was soft beneath his tongue, his own seed slightly bitter to taste, but he languidly lapped up every drop, lick by tender lick until it was all gone. He smirked up at L.

L's wide eyes stared down at him, his mouth sliding open a little, and all it took was one squeeze from Light's hand before L gave a violent shudder and came against his jeans. Light soaked in the sight of his lover caught in the thralls of orgasm, shaking and panting, and graciously gave him time to finish before he shoved him off the bed.

There was a dull thud and a muffled groan as L hit the floor, pulling a satisfied smirk to Light's face as he peered over the edge at the tangle of limbs and wild hair L had become.

"You're not getting back up here without a shower," he said firmly, not bothering to stop a contented smile from curling his lips - then his eyes drifted along the floor and rested on a splattered piece of cake, icing smeared across the carpet, apparently dropped in L's haste to get to the bed.

Light didn't know whether to be annoyed or ridiculously pleased, so he settled for a mixture of both.

"And you'll have to clean that up. Get the spot remover from the closet – it should get it out alright."

L pushed himself off the floor and gingerly climbed to his feet, his eyes stern as he regarded Light kneeling on the bed smirking.

"That," he said definitively, fixing his shirt so it hung like it ususally did on his bent-shouldered slouch, "is a very unromantic way to end this particular session. And, might I add, a terrible waste of- what are you doing, Light-kun?"

Light thought it should have been very obvious what he was doing. He was grabbing L's pillow and using it to wipe the oily lube from his chest and arms and hips, the stray cum splatters from his legs and cock.

"Cleaning up. Like you should be doing, so get going." He tossed L's dirtied pillow back on the bed and waited until L rolled his eyes and slouched out of the room before he climbed from the bed and slipped back into his wayward boxers. Then he crawled back into bed, the side not contaminated with sweat and lube and a little bit of leaked jizz, and slithered under the covers.

His eyes drifted shut.

Yes, that revenge had been very satisfactory, well worth the wait. He doubted L had learned any sort of useful lesson, but he acknowledged that hadn't really been the point.

At any rate, he felt L had been sufficiently punished for the handjob, and they had both gotten an orgasm out of it. It had all the qualities of a top-rate revenge.

As Light slowly slipped into sleep, ignoring the sounds of what he really hoped wasn't L eating cake off the floor with a delicately held fork but most likely was, he briefly considered what L would do as retaliation – because retaliate he would, that they both knew. The game hadn't played out yet, not even close, and it was L's turn to move now.

Light burrowed a little deeper into the sheets, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to predict his quirky boyfriend's next move so there was no point tormenting himself by wondering – by imagining L pinning him against the wall, against the table, running his hands all over him in taunting, almost-enough pleasure, or surprising him in the morning with his mouth around Light's already hard cock as Light slipped into awareness, having rubbed him into an erection as he slept because L knew Light hated and loved that, or-

Light wasn't supposed to be imagining this.

Oh well. The wondering and the anticipation was what made it interesting.

And that was one thing about which Light was sure: life with L would always be interesting.

Author's note: There you have it. In the heat of the moment, L apparently will choose Light over cake. I know, it surprised me too. But who knows what would happen when his dick's down and his brain's back on line – that's pretty much a toss-up, I'd say. Of course, the best option is just to have both, Light and cake. Together. With strawberries. There, glad that's settled.

Everyone who reviewed last chapter – thank you so much! I love you all.

Thanks for reading!