Author's Note: This is just a short story that I had in mind while writing "The Parasite". If you haven't read that one yet, I'd recommend doing so, or else this might not make much sense. I wanted a little more interaction between Kira and L. Be warned this is not my best work; just something I threw together. Still, enjoy!


Kira was bored.

Well, maybe bored wasn't the right word. It is rather difficult for one to claim they are bored when one is also very excited. Perhaps impatient was a better term or just plain at loss for what to do. Yes. That last one fit a bit better. The killer simply did have any idea what to do with his time right now. The Task Force had closed up shop for the evening and now he had nothing to keep him busy.

The plan was progressing perfectly. Higuchi was dead, the case's two main suspects had been cleared of suspicion, and most importantly, Kira was safely back inside his host. Light Yagami's body felt wonderfully warm after the icy cold of the Notebook's pages. Everything was exactly as it should be. L would soon be executed and Kira could finally, finally, take his place as god of the new world.

But he still had a few more days to wait for the big finale. And the suspense was driving him crazy.

Kira lay down on his bed. L had offered him a room of his own after the handcuffs had been removed and the murder was grateful for it. Even after all this time, L still made him a little uneasy; like the dark eyed detective did not trust his comrade completely. Kira shook his head slightly. That was ridiculous. If anything L should have absolute faith in him now, for the young man and Light Yagami had been lovers for nearly the entire time that Kira had been confide to the Notebook. If L had trusted Light enough to sleep with him, then there should be no problems for Kira. After all, L didn't know that Light was gone.

With that comforting thought in mind, Kira idly picked up a book that had been placed on his nightstand. "The Divine Comedy", it read. Dante's inferno. How fitting. The killer leafed through a few of the pages, skimming the text. He didn't particularly feel like reading, but he supposed it was something to do. He was about a tenth of the way through it, when he heard the door creak open. Kira glanced up.

L was standing in the threshold, looking pale and exhausted. Kira set down the book and gave him a friendly wave. "Hey, Ryuzaki." He said, a small smile settling onto his features. "What can I do for you?"

The inky haired detective didn't answer and his ebony eyes narrowed with what the murder thought looked like distain. That was a little odd. Kira blinked, smile fading, and put on his best innocently confused expression. "Is something the matter?" He asked.

L said nothing. Instead, he walked over to the bed and stared darkly at his companion. The killer stared back at him, eyes widening slightly in concern. "Has something happened?"

That statement must have been a trigger of some kind for L, because the next thing Kira knew, the man had jumped onto the bed, grabbed his former suspect's wrists, effectively pinning him, and slammed his mouth over Kira's in a harsh, furious kiss.

Well, that was unexpected. The murderer held perfectly still while his rival ravished his mouth, tongue probing and teeth biting. When the young detective finally needed air, he pulled away and looked deeply into Kira's eyes, his own orbs made of hardened onyx. Kira guessed he didn't find whatever he was looking for because after only a few moments, the raven-haired man went right back to kissing him. Kira tried to stop it by opening his mouth to question, well everything, but L just bit his lower lip, growling for him to be quiet. So Kira patiently waited the rest of the ordeal out, even responding a little as to not cause suspicion, but his tormentor still seemed angry. The second time he stopped, he peered into Kira's peepers again. And again, nothing was found.

L let out a frustrated cry and proceeded to tear the clothes right off his prisoner. Kira resisted him only slightly; he had no idea what L was up to and didn't know which way to respond. But then his challenger started sucking on his neck in an area that, the killer was just now realizing, was a sweet spot. The murderer moaned a little and allowed the hormones of this body to take over. Fine. If L wanted intimacy, then Kira would damn give it to him.

The rest passed in a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. Kira as an essence was a little unsure how to feel about the process, but Light's body enjoyed every minute of it. The boy's memories had not lied; L was a fantastic lover. But throughout the whole thing, something nagged at Kira. The murderer knew from snippets of images that physical relations with L were usually warm and sweet. Lovemaking in its purest form. This was not like that at all. It was sex, raw and primal and violent. There was no love in this act at all.

Kira could feel his climax approaching. He dug his nails into his rival's back. "L!" He cried. "Oh, L!" The young man ignored him, continuing with his thrusts, panting and groaning. He moved his mouth so it was close to Kira's ear. "Light." He whispered. "Light! Light! Light! Light!" A chant. The boy's name had become a prayer. Had the situation been different, Kira might have laughed.

But then the killer saw blinding white and everything was over. L screamed the name of Kira's host one last time, then collapsed. They lay like that for a few moments, equally exhausted. The murder shifted beneath his enemy, feeling sticky and strange. He sorted through the mind of L's lost lover and found that, when this sort of thing was done, the two of them would cuddle up together and just relax, basking in afterglow and happiness. But L, it seemed, was full of surprises tonight, because instead of getting off his companion and snuggling up to him, he rolled off of Kira and forcefully grabbed the man, slamming him into his chest and clutching him tightly.

If Kira felt any kind of confusion in that moment, he ignored it. He was tired and sore and his borrowed body was humming pleasantly. There was nothing L could do to him that could be threatening. The killer's eyes were starting to drift shut, when suddenly he felt something wet fall onto his cheek. A velveteen tongue darted out and tasted the foreign liquid. It was salty.

Kira glanced up to look at L. Tears were streaming down the young detective's face, leaving streaks on his porcelain skin and water droplets on his surroundings. The man was crying. Kira, despite his limited knowledge of such things, knew that L was not the type to turn on the water works as a response to orgasmic bliss. No. These were tears born solely of pain and loss.

L was as quiet a crier as he was a speaker. No sounds escaped his lips, but his thin shoulders shook with silent sobs. He buried his face in cinnamon-colored hair. "Light." His voice was soft and broken. "Light."

Kira felt joy, unadulterated and triumphant, flood through him. It was better than anything he had experienced during the sex.

His nemesis knew the truth and could do nothing about it.

L continued to cry and Kira turned his face into his enemy's chest, grinning.

Victory.