Chapter Text
1. Give up:
To abandon (oneself) to a particular feeling, influence, or activity.
In the dead of night, the headquarters take on the distinctively haunting atmosphere of a deserted hotel.
Misa’s roaming the halls, shivering quietly not from the cold but from the feeling of being watched—ironic, considering that if there was a spot in this whole place that avoids near-constant surveillance, it’d be this random hallway on a floor nobody ever uses.
She turns a corner, so similar to all the ones before it that it might as well be repeating on loop, and when she spots an elevator she figures it’s time to give up her exploration. While the unfamiliar setting has done little to placate her, the nightmare she gasped herself awake from hours ago has faded from her mind, and she just might be exhausted enough to catch some more sleep. Her feet are getting cold, anyway; for some reason she thought it’d be a good idea to walk around without slippers.
In the elevator she stares at herself in the mirror with grotesque fascination: the harsh light turns her sickly and pale, complexion washed-out further by her bleached hair and the loose white shirt she wore to bed. Blondeness aside, give her two seconds with a black eyeshadow and she could be cosplaying (a much cuter, fem version, that much is obvious) as Ryuzaki himself.
God, Ryuzaki. What a creep! It’s clear by now he won’t stop third-wheeling her dates with Light, but she’d be willing to make the best of even that if he wasn’t so—if that thing he does with his eyes, and the way he says her name—
“I might fall for you, you know?” she whispers to her reflection in the mirror, bringing a thumb to her lips with her back hunched over. She can barely finish the quote before she’s giggling to herself, snorting oh my God at the absurdity of it. She doesn’t regret that innocent kiss on the cheek but she does regret not teasing him more for that comment. It’d been an obvious attempt to either flatter her or weird her out, or whatever unusual mix of both he kept springing up on her, but Misa’s sure…yeah, if only she’d leaned back in, touched his hair a little, whispered something like you really think so? while batting her eyelashes…yeah, she could have caught him off guard. Maybe it would have even made Light a little jealous, a little possessive?
Mh, she’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.
The elevator reaches its destination, and the doors slide open almost soundlessly. Everything in this place is so new and efficient—maybe that’s where its coldness comes from. As far as prisons go, your own personal penthouse sure is cool and luxurious, but she misses the homey mess of her home, all her gothic little memorabilia plastered everywhere in her room. No wonder she can’t sleep!
Her mind quickly jumps from that observation to the other reason why she can’t sleep, a.k.a. the fifty fucking days of solitary confinment that L put her through, which she’s pretty sure is a war crime or something?, and in a sudden mood swing that would have given whiplash to anyone else, she’s suddenly furious. They really did that to her! Kept her blindfolded, made her beg to go the fucking bathroom, repeating all the same questions over and over until she thought she’d gone insane, and each and all of them drawled out through a mic in what she now recognizes, computer distortion aside, as Ryuzaki’s infuriating monotone—
Well. Well! If she can’t fucking sleep because of him, then she will make it his problem.
Sprung on by the fires of her indignation, she gets out of her elevator and stomps her way to the main investigation room one floor down. Just pressing one button and waiting wouldn’t really fit the mood, now, would it?
When she finds him in his usual spot she’s actually a little surprised. After all, she’s seen 2am pass and go before deciding that staring at the ceiling of her room wasn’t going to magically lull her back to sleep, so by now—half an hour later, at least—even a night owl like Ryuzaki should be passed out somewhere.
Somewhere in Light’s vicinity, according to the 24/7 Handcuffs Treatment Ryuzaki insisted on.
Instead, he’s very much alone, staring wide-eyed as usual into his silly little screens. “Evening, Misa-san,” he says when she peeks into the room, and he doesn’t sound even a little bit surprised.
“Hi,” she replies. Her eyes narrow at him as she pads into the room, socked feet soundless on the floor. “Were you watching me through the cameras?”
With one soft push to the desk, Ryuzaki sends the chair spinning to face her. He sits so often like that, knees practically in his mouth and toes digging on the edge of the seat, that by now she hardly notices. She can’t imagine the double-take she’d give him if he one day decided to sit like someone who doesn’t share DNA with owls.
“For a while,” he admits. The many screens back-light him in a blue hue. “Until I figured out you weren’t suffering from an episode of sleepwalking. I was hoping to see you bump into a wall and wake yourself up.”
Misa gapes at him for a moment, looking for words. Rude! Rude, rude, rude— “Hey!” she settles on, and scrambles for something less lame to say, “I’m having weird…nightmares, whatever they are, because you imprisoned me—”
“Because you’re the second Kira.”
“—noI’mnot shutup, and you’re down here hoping that I get a concussion—”
“You were hardly sprinting into walls, Misa-san, you wouldn’t have—”
“Literally hoping I die under your roof—!”
“—gotten a concussion—oh, I see, you’re being dramatic on purpose.”
“Such a creep! And where is Light, anyway, uh? Did you hit him over the head with something and hid the body, mh?”
Ryuzaki blinks at her twice in rapid succession. “Light-kun is getting his eight hours of beauty sleep in our room. I,” he says while pointing a finger at the evil-scientist clutter of screens behind him, “am working. Correction, was working.”
Misa huffs and rolls her eyes at the non-answer, dragging her feet to the chair opposite Ryuzaki’s. She curls up on it, careful not to let her sleep shirt ride too high up her thighs—maybe coming here while dressed…well, while mostly undressed, actually, wasn’t her best idea. “He was complaining that you don’t even let him shower alone just the other day, and now I find out you let him sleep by himself?”
Ryuzaki stares resolutely into her eyes for a long beat, and then slides his gaze off of her and back to the computers. Misa’s eyebrows raise up on her forehead—what the hell was that?
“I’m sure Misa disagrees with me, but Light can be an extremely annoying individual,” he says in his bored, can’t-be-bothered-to-care tone. “And If I didn’t take some hours for myself, I wouldn’t be able to stay lucid. He sleeps like the dead, anyway, and I…” A second of silence; Ryuzaki paws at the assortment of sweets scattered across his work desk, and grabs the first thing his fingers find: a mint-colored macaron. “I’m not a machine,” he finishes, and eats it in one bite.
Misa laughs at that, with little humour and a good dose of derision. Good, something to taunt him with, exactly what she needs right now. “Oh, yes, of course” she says, all faux sweetness, “Ryuzaki needs to recharge by staring at numbers and surveillance footage in the middle of the night, very non-robot-like of him! Are you plugged into that chair or something?”
“Misa—” he tries to say, sighing, but his mouth snaps closed when Misa extends one leg towards him and pokes his side.
“Oh, that’s why you’re always perched there? Does the plug go up—”
“ Misa,” he snaps, and it’s a special kind of pleasure, being able to visibly piss him off. Even when he argues with Light, Ryuzaki never drops the façade of indifference. “I don’t know why you came all the way here just to offend me, and frankly I don’t care. But I am trying to finish something so that I can, in fact, sleep—”
She raises her foot again and pokes him in the face.
He’s grabbing her ankle in a firm grip in a millisecond, and she goes from cackling to yelping before she can process the move.
“Hey!” she exclaims, gripping the edge on the seat with both hands. Despite having witnessed him wiping the floor with Light’s face that one time, Misa isn’t scared he’ll hurt her for real—he simply doesn’t seem like the violent type, unless heavily provoked. Punch-him-in-the-face-first kind of provoked. Still, her balance on the chair is now precarious at best.
“I see,” is all he says, staring her down with the full strength of his wide-eyed, freakish leer. “You’re using me as your personal entertainment station. Do I have to tell Watari to buy you toys, Misa-san?” His face morphs into an unpleasant little grin that tries to play far too innocent on his sharp features, a parody of a smile more than anything. Misa intends to butt in, tell him to go to hell and take his wrinkly butler with him, but between the searing heat of his hand on her skin, and the unfortunate connection her brain made between Ryuzaki and toys, she goes speechless.
Ryuzaki saves her from the humiliation of having no comeback by serving another, much worse one immediately after. “Oh, and I was under the impression that a boyfriend ’s role is, among other things, to help you sleep at night. You know, by tiring you out? Too bad that Light— ough!
Misa, through the wave of anger flushing her cheeks red, smiles when Ryuzaki hisses and tentatively touches his tongue to his bottom lip. This time when she hit him with her free foot, she intended it to hurt—seems like it did. “You and your stupid handcuffs are the only reason why Light hasn’t been tiring me out, Ryuzaki.”
“Is it now?” He grabs her other ankle, making her yelp again—and really, are they going in circles now? She huffs in annoyance and kicks at him a little, but all this does is make her more unstable on the chair. “Well, as you can see,” he says, and shakes his left hand with Misa’s leg in tow, “no handcuffs. Why don’t you go to him? I promise I won’t tell.”
They both know Light would be livid if she woke him up asking for…for cuddles, of all things. She doesn’t entertain the thought of genuinely, earnestly propositioning him for sex out of nowhere like Ryuzaki is implying, because she can’t decide what would hurt her pride more: if he was disgusted by her advances, or if he stayed completely indifferent. Her heart clenches painfully at the reminder that her delusions regarding her relationship with Light are just that—and when she’s hurt, and can’t have a good cry about it in the privacy of her room, Misa gets mean. “Why?” she asks, smiling coldly at Ryuzaki, “Are you really so desperate to watch?”
What now?, she thinks, studying his reaction carefully. She’s not used to arguing with men; they usually agree with her over everything in a desperate effort to get her into her pants.
That obnoxious half-smile fades slowly off his face. Ryuzaki tilts his head, breaks off eye-contact with her to sigh a long-suffering sigh at the ceiling. “This makes things more difficult,” he murmurs, the tone of someone who’s speaking to himself. Misa freezes when she feels his thumbs rub circles on the delicate bones of her ankles.
There’s not enough breath in her lungs when she replies. “What are you talking about?”
“Misa is never like this with Light around,” he explains. His eyes flicker to Misa’s legs and, resolutely, as if he has to make a conscious effort to, he meets and holds her gaze again.
“Like what? ”
“Mean.”
“Well, you inspire it in me.”
“Witty, too.”
Misa huffs, sliding a little lower on the chair. Damn this guy! Is he trying to charm her, now, with flattery? Is that his go-to? And good God, why is it working a little? “Whatever,” she says, straightening her legs until she can rest her feet on Ryuzaki’s shoulders—if he doesn’t intend to let her go anytime soon, then she might as well get comfy. “Insomnia makes Misa-Misa grouchy, that’s all. Think about that next time L decides to chain me up long enough to give me nightmares!”
She expects Ryuzaki to rebut and keep the back-and-forth going, but she’s met by a vacuous stare and more soothing circles rubbed into her skin.
“Ryuzaki, still there?”
His chest jumps slightly with a startle, and it’s like his brain reboots right in front of her eyes. “Does—does Misa-san realise,” he says, voice as low in both tone and timbre as she’s ever heard it from him, and wow, that was a stutter! Since when does Ryuzaki stutter? “That I can see her underwear?” he finishes lamely.
Oh, God. The words pull her outside of her body for a brief moment: she sees herself, with her sleep shirt riding up her thighs; the position she willingly got in—with her feet on either side of Ryuzaki’s head, Jesus!—that easily exposes to him her underwear and the entire length of her naked legs.
Her ears and neck flush with an adrenaline spike of panic—and then relaxes altogether. “It’s alright,” she giggles. It’s just Ryuzaki, afterall; teasing Matsuda is fun because he falls for it hook, line and sinker each time, but if there’s a guy she finds less sexually threatening that him is Ryuzaki himself. Horrible diet aside, he seems so reluctant to indulge in any other basic human need.
As if to contradict her line of thought, his fingers tighten around her ankles and something happens on his face, something that changes the line of his jaw, the tilt of his eyebrows, imperceptibly, and all of a sudden he looks starved. “Misa-san forgets I’m still a man.”
The words send a shiver down her spine, toes curling with a faint after-shock. Oh. Oh, wow. So Ryuzaki really does—but how come he’s never—? Her entire perception of him is forced to abruptly shift; she thinks back to each and every interaction they’ve had since that first time at Light’s university, and finds that she’s either been too blinded by Light’s all-encompassing presence to notice any hint of attraction, or Ryuzaki really is the best of liars.
Her mouth is dry as she tries to speak. “And what are you going to do to remind me?”
She doesn’t know why she says it. It’s slutty, encouraging him like this, and not in the fun, harmless way; it’s slutty in the wait, don’t you have a boyfriend? kind of way. And yet when Ryuzaki drops his eyes to stare between her legs—not a passing glance, not trying to hide it— she doesn’t clench her thighs to hide the view; and when his cheeks colour, and he tilts his head until his lips are brushing on her ankle, she doesn’t yell or call him a pervert or do any of the other million things she could, should do.
Ryuzaki's hand glides up, thumb now digging in the arch of her foot. Misa, heart thrumming somewhere in her throat, watches him place his lips more fully to the first naked line of skin left exposed by her socks. His eyes flutter close, and Misa thinks wow, his eyelashes are really long, and then it's over, as quick as it started, Ryuzaki letting both of her ankles go at the same time and swivelling on his chair to face the computers once again.
"W-what was—” she starts to say, but Ryuzaki cuts her off immediately.
"Go to bed, Misa, or I'll call Watari to personally escort you."
The temptation to push and prod until he acknowledges what he just did is strong, but Misa is a little shaken, and little more than turned on, so suddenly being back in her bed—even if wide awake and slightly creeped out by the ambiance—is more appealing than ever.
She gets up without another word and quickly makes her way back to her apartment.
The spot he kissed burns hot until she finally falls asleep.
Misa hasn’t mentioned anything yet. He saw every morning for the past four days and she hasn’t even alluded to how L basically rubbed his face on her foot like a cat—which, did he really? Maybe it was more subtle than that. The surveillance cameras didn’t get the best angle of the scene, he’s already checked.
Either way, If he had been in her shoes, something other than the heavy platform boots she seems to favour, possibly, he would have wasted no time telling Light—her handsome, perfect boyfriend! Well, his perfect, handsome boyfriend, in this scenario—about the blatant moment of weakness of their captor, and together they would have unleashed the sort of subtle, passive-aggressive bullying that forces people to change schools because the teachers can’t do anything about it.
Even in that scenario, with Misa looking at him in disgust and derision and Light calmly circling an arm around her shoulder, angelic smile on his face ( “You have to forgive him, Misa, I’m sure Ryuzaki just got caught in the moment. After all, it must have been his first time touching a girl.”), L wouldn’t have regretted it. Although it was undeniably a bad idea, letting Misa know that he is attracted to her, and his intellectual abilities do drop drastically at the sight of her nakes legs. And her underwear.
Which was pink, that night. With a little decorative bow placed at the top that has kept a small part of his vast mind occupied with imagining, in graphic detail and on loop, taking it between his teeth to tug down the garment and leave Misa bare.
He sighs deeply through his nose, bringing one thumb to his mouth to chew on the tip of the nail. There he goes again, getting distracted, getting all wistful.
“God, Ryuzaki,” Light says, stopping his incessant tapping of the keyboard to glare at him. “What has gotten you so melancholy today? You keep sighing and staring at the wall.”
“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m mourning the days when you were interesting to talk to, Light-kun,” he responds off-handedly, joking only in part. Something happened to Light during his confinement, something that undoubtedly has to do with the new Kira they have on their hands, and he’s come out of it so sickly polite and toothless it gives L migraines at times.
He probably wouldn’t pick a fight about L touching his girlfriend even if he knew about it. What a waste!
Light scoffs, sitting up a little straighter on the bed, computer on his lap. “I think you built me up too much in your head, when you barely even knew me. I’ve had this problem with girls at my school before.”
“Ah, so you do still have some bite.” L gives up the pretence of reading files on the endless Yotsuba employees, and bounces on the bed until he’s facing Light. “Is it just for the case then, that you’re not willing to get a little mean? That’s very suspicious of Light-kun, I must say.”
Light, ever the contrarian in these meaningless matters, seems to suddenly put much more effort into whatever he keeps copy-pasting and typing about now that L has stopped. “Don’t bother telling me about my Kira-percentage,” he says, “I know you pull those out of your ass.”
“You got me. In reality it’s always been at a steady 99%, and it’s only bound to go up.”
“Then should I not bother anymore with this dull, pencil-pusher work?” Light asks, tilting his head and smiling seraphically at L, computer screen turned to show him the rows and rows of data he’s been compiling. L sighs again, sparing it a glance. This third Kira is so boring compared to the original. Or hell, the second as well. There’s very little Misa and Light have in common, but a penchant for dramatic flair is at the top of that list.
L hums, pretending to think it over. “Only if you trust Matsuda to take care of it tomorrow.”
“Oh, God.” Light laughs pleasantly, voice low. “Why not just let this become a cold case, then?”
“Mh, I don’t know, Light-kun. Matsuda could become our wild card. Who knows what he’ll do if we get him frustrated enough.”
“Have you been thinking about wild cards a lot lately, Ryuzaki?”
L perks up at the careful shift in topic. He studies Light’s expression from up close, not caring if his eyes are too wide or the flickering of his pupils too manic—he’s endlessly amused by Light’s insistence on remaining completely indifferent to his idiosyncrasies, as if being placid is the most innocent of reactions in front of a strange man whispering in your ear that he believes you’re a world-scale serial killer.
“And what do you mean by that?” he inquires.
“Nothing important, really.” Light shrugs, breaking eye contact to start typing again. “I have simply noticed you checking the feed from Misa’s apartment every night, that’s all.”
“You believe Misa-san is a wild card in this investigation?”
“And you like watching her sleep?”
“Keep your friends close, etcetera etcetera…” L says, uninterested in giving himself a better alibi. So what if Light has noticed his nightly routine? On one hand, he still doesn’t know that L is much more obsessive with his surveillance of Misa that he lets on, because he does it while unchained (and of that happening Light is unaware, because he no doubt would throw a fit if he found out the 24/7 part of their deal isn’t so 24/7 afterall); on the other, Light considers him so unthreatening as a romantic and sexual option that he hasn’t even noticed him lusting after Misa at all. And to say he’s been quite overt about it, teasing her when they argue and leaning in close, way too close to her face. It highlights their height and size difference in a way that goes to his head; he can never resist it.
“And she hasn’t been sleeping much,” he adds. “She’s been roaming the halls of the building in the dead of night, lately.”
“That’s—creepy.”
“Yes, it’s all very Victorian of her. She even sleeps in white. But say, Light-kun, aren’t you worried about your girlfriend’s health?”
Light’s nose scrunches up, and it only lasts a moment but it makes him look infinitely bratty. “I don’t think she’d have this much energy, or such a strong will to talk my ear off every day, if she was seriously sleep-deprived.”
“And you say this lovingly, I assume.”
“Obviously, Ryuzaki. I lovingly cannot stand her.”
L hides a smirk behind his thumb, the long chain that ties him to Light giggling for him in a delighted metal sound when he moves his hand up. “My, my, we’re feeling honest tonight. Maybe you ’re the sleep deprived one.”
“Now that you mention it,” Light says, glancing at his heavy-looking wrist watch that lays on the bedside table. “It is getting late.”
“Yes, I know the drill,” L sighs. He hates that Light is forcing a sane sleep schedule on him by the strength of his bitching alone when L’s typing and mumbling of theories to himself keeps him awake past his bedtime. Which is shockingly early in the night, at least for someone like L.
Really, sometimes he wonders: when did he find the time to kill so many people, between all this lounging in bed and the full afternoons of studying?
They only make a detour to the bathroom to brush their teeth, and then they’re settling back into bed with their laptops put away and the lights off. L considers waiting for Light to fall asleep and then free himself of the handcuffs, but as the possibility of a repeat performance with Misa both excites him and humiliates him in equal measure, he decides to get an early night for real this time.
It’s Light who breaks the silence, a few minutes later, snapping L out of the trance-like state of being almost asleep.
“You know,” he says, “if you care so much about Misa sleeping, we can ask her to spend the night with us here.”
L blinks at the darkness, dumfounded. “Are you serious?”
Light makes a sleepy, non-committal sound, “Sure, whatever, maybe she’s feeling lonely. Just promise you’ll sleep in the middle…I don’t enjoy cuddling.”
“That does fit the profile of a sociopathic killer,” L whispers in the dark, but Light takes it for the joke it is. He kick back at L and misses spectacularly, murmuring what L think is a oh, fuck off with evident humour.
They drift asleep slowly with no further conversation, and if L dreams in broken fragments of Misa’s legs on his shoulders and the petite frame of her pressed up against him between the sheets, then he blissfully, unfortunately, forgets it all once awake.
Notes:
Stay tuned for next episode's of: Light Tries To Be An Asshole But Becomes A Great Wingman Instead. Also He Gets Cucked In His Own Bed.
Let me know what you thought! Drop me a strawberry emoji if you, too, think that L should have eaten more pussy in canon.
Chapter 2: Give In
Summary:
“I knew you had ulterior motives for asking me to sleep here,” Misa whispers with a huff, resolutely turning to face the opposite direction. “Why is it never Light with ulterior motives? It’s so unfair.”
The sting of rejection drains him of energy for a moment, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. “Oh, but he does,” he says, “he wanted to embarrass me. Put me on the spot, if you will—especially by making sure I’d be sleeping next to you.”
Notes:
[hands in my hair, visibly crying] There's no sex in this chapter either. There's smut in the next one though, I promise!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
2. Give in:
To yield to someone or something.
When L does see Misa again, it’s because he extended Light’s proposition to her.
He didn’t do it himself, nor did he bother using the speaker system connected to his mic—summoning her by speaking into the ether, his modulated voice booming into her room, just to invite her to a sleepover had seemed a little…kitsch. He asked Watari to refer the message instead.
Sidenote: Watari is as good a liar as L, but not even he had the presence of mind to hide a quirk of his eyebrow. L has had many eccentric requests for him in the past, he realises, but this is the first time one involves getting a model into his bed.
Misa makes them wait two days before she comes knocking on their door at around 11 pm.
Well, L is waiting, each night feeling a little more rejected and blue. For Misa to give up on sleeping in the same bed as Light, with all the plausible deniability needed to snuggle against him whether he wants it or not, it means that L has really, truly put her off.
She’s made no secret that she finds him weird-looking, off-putting, just plain creepy; but until now he was sure she also found a sick satisfaction in provoking him. Did she get burned by her own game? He either pushed things too far by acknowledging that he’s susceptible to her teasing—made it too real, a touch too crude—or it was all in his head to begin with, and Misa had no idea what she does to him.
And now that she knows she’s too grossed out to even be in the same room as him.
When the knocking comes, Light gives him a little evil grin that speaks volume about his reasoning for inviting Misa and slides off the bed to open the door.
“She’s here, Ryuzaki,” he whispers heatedly, one hand lingering on the handle, “how do we look? Do you want me to fix your hair?”
L throws a pillow at him.
Light takes the hit to the face with all the dignity he can, and drops the smile into a cold glare (it manages to silently accuse L of being a manchild better than any words could) just as he swings the door open.
Curled up against the headboard, L sees Misa only when she peaks her head in, her hair gathered in a low bun at her nape. “Hi, guys!” she exclaims cheerfully, and steps into the room to plaster herself on Light’s front. “Oh, Light, thank you for this! I’ll sleep so well next to you, I just know it.”
Then why did you wait two days?, L thinks, eyeing warily Light’s stilted patting on her back as a sorry excuse for a hug. Misa is positively beaming into his chest, eyes closed in delight at the contact despite the lack of reciprocation, but when they flutter open they briefly catch L’s gaze. He instinctively brings a thumb to his lips, drinking in her expression—her smile fades off, but it’s replaced by a faint blush on her cheeks. One bad response to his presence, and a possibly good one. Should he start keeping a tally?
“Not exactly next to me, Misa,” Light is saying, gently detangling himself from her. He brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear to soften the blow. “Turns out, I kick in my sleep, and I’d rather subject Ryuzaki to it than you.”
L nods, purposefully letting his eyes widen to play up the seriousness of the situation. “He’s vicious. I think he’s hiding a martial arts background from us—I’ll make the sacrifice of sleeping in the middle.”
“Well, I might start kicking too if I have to sleep next to Ryuzaki!” Misa protests, hand on one popped hip. He’s transfixed by how her features are softened by the hairstyle and her white-and-pink sleep clothes. It’s particularly endearing when she pouts at Light, then him, then Light again like she can’t decide who’ll be easier to sway.
“You can always go back to your room if you’d be more comfortable, Misa,” Light comments, already turning away to get into bed. L can’t stand his fastidious pure-cotton pajama sets, and his stupidly improbable, silky auburn hair, and the fact that he orcheastred this whole thing just to torture L.
Misa, predictably, panics at the idea. “N-no, it’s alright, I don’t mind that much,” she says with an overly joyful tone. She immediately turns to stare L down, her eyes narrowing into slits. “And Ryuzaki will behave, right? He won’t be a pervert as usual?”
“I haven’t been overtaken by uncontrollable lust and spooned Light-kun in his sleep yet, so I’m sure Misa-san is also safe.”
“Have I been at risk of that?” Light asks from his cozy position under the covers. L doesn’t bother tilting his head to look at him, a little too taken by Misa’s choice of shorts as sleeping attire, but he can hear in his voice the amusement.
“You wish,” he replies sardonically, smiling around his thumb.
Misa harrumphs, a verb L never thought to associate with her, and stomps over to the bed in a way that could be intimidating if there weren’t little chibi drawings of kittens in goth makeup on her oversized shirt. “Hey, stop flirting with him!” she says, although it’s unclear who she’s talking to, exactly. She steps up on the bed and goes over both Light, who ostensibly keeps his eyes closed like he could actually fall asleep with Misa shaking the whole bed, and L, who on his part doesn’t bother hiding how his eyes follow her thighs when they enter his line of vision. “Whatever, if I wake up in the morning and you two are cuddling I’ll make a scene.”
“Ew,” comes Light’s voice from the pillow he sank his face in.
“I know, gross! You can do so much better, Light! Actually, you be doing m—”
“Have either of you considered,” L butts in, “how many hits my self-esteem can take in the span of one conversation?”
“What, before you start crying?”
Light chuckles into the pillow, and Misa looks awfully proud to have evoked it. Seems like it was a bad idea for L to point out that she’s more charming when meaner, the other night—he doesn’t think Light would appreciate it if directed at himself, but if L is the victim everything is fair game for him.
“I’ll remind you that you’re both trying to convince me of your innocence,” L comments drily while contorting his body until he’s under the covers, “and that this behaviour is counterproductive.”
It’s a long time before each of them gives up on getting the last word, and although it’s an unfair two-against-one game that he inevitably loses, L gladly embraces sleep when it comes with no childish bitterness. He has very few hours of rest under his belt from the previous two nights, and running on fumes is not conducive to good banter—and anyway, it can’t be said that he’s losing when the heat of Misa’s body is warming up his front even from a distance.
L’s eyelids twitch, brow furrowing for an instant, and then he’s awake.
Light has insisted on keeping at least a sliver of the curtains in the room open since he found out the sun filters in at the optimal time for waking at a productive hour, and so L knows from the pitch black state of the room that it’s still the dead of night.
There’s only the faint red glow of a radio clock providing a hint of what L is looking at. The shape under the covers is too petite to be Light—not by much, all things considered—and with a startling moment of clarity that wakes him up the whole way, he remembers Misa is in their bed.
She’s not moving. Her breathing pattern is distressed, air whistling out of her throat with great struggle, and L’s brain realises she might be suffocating as his body is already moving, grasping her shoulder with one hand to make her roll on her back.
“Misa-san,” he whispers in the dark, his own heart jack-rabbiting in his chest. How long has she been breathing like that? It’s surely what woke him up in the same place. “Misa, Misa, you need to—”
Misa gasps, instinctively clenching her fingers around L’s wrists. “Light?”
L swallows against his dry throat. “No, it’s me.”
“Oh, Ryuzaki,” Misa breathes out, her voice hitching on the last syllable. “This keeps happening. I’m awake but can’t move, I can’t move, I can’t—”
L shushes her, pulling away to lower himself on the bed once again. His eyes are adjusting more to the darkness, just enough to spot the haunted look in Misa’s eyes. Is she going to cry? Please, anything but that, L is so inept at comforting crying people—and he’s usually the one that makes it happen, which is a testament to his general lack of tact.
“Do you often suffer from sleep paralysis?” he asks calmly. He brings one thumb to his teeth to worry at the tip, wanting to offer physical touch as a tether but unsure if it would be welcome.
“Oh, that’s what that’s called?” Misa shifts under the covers, bundling up in the sheets. They’re face to face now, curled towards each other like parentheses. “I thought they were just God awful nightmares.”
“Have you tried killing yourself?”
“Excuse me?”
“In the dream,” L adds, slurring his words a little to affect sleepiness, if not overt disinterest. “I don’t get those episodes anymore, but when I was younger…when I first got into the more gruesome side of this job, they tormented me. I found out soon enough that to trick my body into waking up, I could simply try to end my life in the dream.”
Misa exhales deeply through her nose, a little smile tugging at her lips. “You always go for the most drastic option, Ryuzaki.”
“It tends to work,” he replies dryly. “Speaking of drastic options, can I suggest something for tonight? It’s a short-term solution at best, but worth trying.”
Misa eyes him warily—or at least that’s how he reads her expression in the near darkness. The prolonged silence, followed by a sceptical hum, is telling enough.
“You’re going to ask me to cuddle?” she says in the end, followed by a vicious “Pervert. ” that makes goosebumps break over the skin of his arms, a familiar thrill by now.
He shakes off the feeling, blinking owlishly. “I wouldn’t have put it that way,” he reasons, “I would have said, physical contact might soothe your nerves, or please don’t punch me if I try to spoon you. Something on those lines.”
“I knew you had ulterior motives for asking me to sleep here,” Misa whispers with a huff, resolutely turning to face the opposite direction. “Why is it never Light with ulterior motives? It’s so unfair.”
The sting of rejection drains him of energy for a moment, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. “Oh, but he does,” he says, “he wanted to embarrass me. Put me on the spot, if you will—especially by making sure I’d be sleeping next to you.”
Misa stills her fussing over the covers. “What do you mean?”
“He suspects I find you attractive, and wants to see me flustered like a schoolboy. Or, alternatively, deeply humiliated by your disgust.”
The silence that follows can’t be longer than five seconds but it drags on for a perceived eternity. L bites more viciously at his thumb, playing out in his head all the cruel things Misa could say and do right now, all the ones L would come up with if the roles were reversed.
“What’s the point?” she says in the end, her high voice sombre for once. “He’ll miss both if he’s still sleeping. How did we not wake him up?”
Topic dismissed, just like that?, he thinks to himself, tilting his head in the dark. But it makes sense, doesn’t it, that Misa would steer the conversation back to Light? Always back to Light; unhealthy obsession and unwavering loyalty. To think that she’s practically wasting away in here trying to garner his attention, and how little interest Light has in tapping into all that sheer potential—L can’t say how he’d react to being the object of feelings on that scale, but he knows he’d be more clever about it than Light.
And a little less pragmatic, too.
“I told you, he won’t wake up for anything. I think he programmed himself to sleep for eight hours daily, and he deactivates at eleven p.m.”
“You’re the one with the computer brain,” Misa says into her pillow, “hu uu ge, creepy computer brain. Bee-beep bop boop.”
L smiles, bottom lip caught between his thumb and his bent index finger, as Misa keeps slurring old-school computer sounds more and more softly. “Stop fighting sleep, Misa-san.”
Misa sniffles and buries deeper under the covers. “Well, it’s your fault I’m still awake.”
“I’ll stop talking.”
“Nooo,” she murmurs, indignant. “‘T’s not that. ‘M waiting for the cuddles you made a big deal about.”
“As I recall, you called it cuddling and you made a big deal,” L replies in a whisper, but he’s already sliding close to her form with his breath caught in his throat. The warmth of her skin, even without an inch of them touching at all, is searing hot on his chest, the front of his thighs. If curling around Misa’s frame and tangling their legs together is an option—which it seems it is, because Misa only gives him a little satisfied hum when he circles an arm around her waist—he won’t make her ask twice. Chances are, she’ll come back to her senses tomorrow morning and Light will get all the entertainment he was hoping for when he pulled this particular stunt.
L makes a valiant effort to keep his hips angled away, just in case his accelerated heartbeat is pumping blood in a specific direction, but Misa settles in closer by wiggling backwards until she’s flush with him from shoulders to ankles, and L certainly won’t be the one moving away. This…this isn’t what innocently seeking comfort looks like, right? Maybe L is projecting; Misa has called him a pervert one time too many to not have the doubt he really is one sneak in. But no, no, the way she’s pushing her ass back into L’s hips can’t be accidental—it’s like she’s treating him like a sentient body pillow, and he hopes she won’t mind when he inevitably gets hard under the single layer of cotton he’s wearing right now.
Her bare feet rub once on his ankles before she hooks one behind his calf, and suddenly his leg has slipped between her thighs. The fabric of her shorts brushes on his naked skin, and his hand clenches around nothing, nails scraping the sheets in front of Misa’s stomach with a full-body shiver that rattles even his teeth.
She’s so soft. He genuinely just wanted to spare her a second episode of sleep apnea for the night, but she’s so soft, and so warm, it’s unbearable, and with each passing second he doesn’t know how Light resists her. How he doesn’t grasp the opportunity to feel like this every night.
“Ryuzaki?” Misa whispers, breaking him out of his thoughts.
L’s eyes snap open in the near darkness, and he doesn’t dare move an inch. “Mh?”
“This feels like snuggling a skinny tree branch,” she comments, poking the arm he has slung around her. He freezes even more at the comment, violent heat raising up his neck and to his ears at the jab—should he move away? He’s never laid like this with a woman before, maybe he’s doing it wrong. He bites his bottom lip, worrying at the chapped texture of it with his tongue. Feeling incompetent is his least favourite thing, right under flavourless American ice-cream.
“Relax,” she says softly with a touch of teasing humour in her tone, “I won’t bite, pinkie promise. Just get comfy so we can both sleep.”
L inhales deeply through his nose, and using the same technique of the first few minutes of his martial arts training, he releases all the tension in his body on the exhale. Every muscle unclenches, his solar plexus goes concave as his lungs empty out; blank slate, let’s start over. Misa pats his arm with a delighted sigh, somehow managing to snuggle even closer, and L gives up on trying to hide how much he’s enjoying this. He sinks his nose in her hair and hugs her around the waist.
“I’ll wake you up again if you seem distressed,” he promises with his lips brushing the crown of her head.
“Thanks, Ryuzaki, you’re the sweetest,” she murmurs back, and she falls asleep just like that.
L battles the furious pounding of his heart until the dark and warmth and the intoxicating scent of Misa’s bodywash get the best of him, and he sinks into a dreamless sleep until morning.
They settle in a routine.
One the first morning, when Misa blinked her eyes open feeling well rested for a change, she found Ryuzaki awkwardly shuffling into his usual pair of jeans, and Light standing tall next to him but eyeing her with some interest.
Instinctually, she had smiled back at him, basking in the warmth of the covers and the simple sight of him looking so gorgeous in the warm tones of the sweater he’d been wearing, but Light had only diverted his eyes. They flickered to Ryuzaki, who was still battling with the zip of his pants, and she remembers thinking he looked disappointed, in those brief moments, but it hadn’t clicked why yet.
It was only later, when she was blow-drying her hair in her penthouse and singing loudly under the cacophony, that Ryuzaki’s words had come back to her mind: Light was waiting for her to pick on Ryuzaki, humiliate him for his behaviour while sharing a bed with her.
But he was nice, she thought simply, pouting at her reflection. Misa had been hesitant to even see him again after that…moment, whatever that was, that they shared; scared, first and foremost, that Ryuzaki would take the opportunity to tell Light about it when the three of them were all alone, without the rest of the taskforce as a buffer.
She needn’t have worried; Ryuzaki had been on his best behaviour. And shouldn’t she reward good behaviour?
And either way, Misa doesn’t have the heart to get mean when he’d even saved her from such an awful nightmare. She really wasn't able to breathe well at all—sleep paralysis, Ryuzaki had called it, and damn if it isn’t a good term for those terrible minutes, spent trying in vain to roll back onto her back, release the pressure around her ribs, caught somewhere awful between real world and dream. Thanks to him she’d managed to fall back asleep right after! He even did that cute little thing that boys do when they obviously want to touch her, but the choices overwhelm them and they end up getting all awkward, they don’t know where to put their hands.
She can’t imagine Light ever losing his suave attitude because Misa settled too close on his lap—and not too long ago, it’d seemed too impossible for Ryuzaki, too.
But he broke first that time in the main headquarters room, and now she doesn’t have to imagine it because she’s seen it, she’s seen how hungry he can get for her touch, and how badly he hides it. And maybe she likes it, Light or no Light (not that he cares, now, does he?), and maybe that’s why she keeps indulging in the childish desire to see him lose it.
So, they settle into a routine.
Light looks bored of it by day two, when Misa stubbornly refuses to give him what he wants, but he doesn’t complain.
It’s quite simple, really: she knocks on her door when she’s too tired or too bored to keep still in her rooms; either Ryuzaki or Light let her in, always bound together by that damned chain; she curls on her side of the bed and lets them do their work in silence. Being ignored stings, and she fights back to urge to catch their attention with inane banter or questions about the case, but she’s aware that the second Light decides the current predicament has gotten too troublesome for him, it’s over.
So she stays quiet, and pretends to fall asleep earlier than she does, because this building is very cold, and Ryuzaki keeps her so warm every night. She doesn’t want to go back to the insomnia her rooms here bring.
A week passes like this, stagnant as the ones before it, but Misa is reinvigorated by the good sleep and the socialisation she’s getting (sad excuse for it it might be). Plus, obviously, this is all time spent near Light, Light who seems to be responding positively to Ryuzaki’s more engaged attitude towards the case—attitude which, Misa flatters herself, must be due to the nightly cuddling he’s getting—and she likes him so much better when he’s in a good mood. They’re stuck in a feedback loop that’s beneficial to all involved.
This night isn’t any different. Misa is just about to doze off while listening to Ryuzaki’s low tones rattling off medical jargon on the benefits of sugar intake, and Light sounds genuinely delighted to tell him he’s delusional and a shameless liar. She startles herself awake when the mattress dips behind her, and when she turns she finds Light forcibly tugging Ryuzaki back into bed with him by the chain that binds them together.
“Come on, no more excuses,” he says, settling his precious, perfect head on the pillow. “Think of it this way, if you sleep morning will come sooner, and then you can ask Watari to make you that stupid strawberry cheescake you’re in love with.”
Misa sighs dreamily at the sight of his profile, and Light even gives her a good-humoured raise of his brow before Ryuzaki lets himself fall headfirst on the bed with the same verve of someone giving up on life altogether, and blocks her view.
“I could wake him up now and make him do it,” Ryuzaki slurs into the pillow, “he works for me, you know?”
“Oh, I thought he was like, your caretaker or something,” Misa chimes in, extending her legs under the covers.
“Good, Misa,” Light comments. He’s slipping under the sheets with a serene smile on his handsome face, “bully him for me while I sleep.”
“Of course! Night night, Light!”
“What, you’re skipping your seventeen-steps skincare routine tonight? Careful, you might get wrinkles come morning.”
Misa hides a giggle behind her hand, and watches Ryuzaki uncurl from his face-plated position on the bed to roll on his back, slipping off his jeans while curled up like an overturned turtle.
Light resolutely turns to face the opposite wall, as he does every night as a signal to stop talking to him; work is done for the day and now he’ll rest, thank you very much. “It’s only five steps,” is the last thing he says for the night.
She knows he’s not actually asleep—of course he isn’t. It’s been five seconds. But her brain has already made the association that Light falling silent means it’s bed time for all of them, and bed time for all of them means that Ryuzaki will slide next to her and hold her tightly until she passes out.
His jeans make a dull, soft sound when he throws them on the closest chair. Misa glances up at him and finds him already staring back, eyes black as pools of ink, face a blank slate. He really is quite handsome, she finds herself thinking. Is he really, though, or is she just warming up to him in general because he makes every night a good night? He’s like, a classical beauty, right? With the jawline, and those cheekbones…God, I’m really losing it.
When he smooths his palms down his naked shins, she snaps out of her thoughts to follow the motion with her eyes. “Cold?” she whispers, hoping it comes off neutral instead like the invitation it is. She’s not feeling very neutral towards Ryuzaki at all, tonight—something is tying a knot around her stomach, and it’s not anxiety. She wants his legs tangled with her, hips pressed together.
“Mh, maybe a little,” he replies. “Make some space for me?” He crawls to the top of the bed to free the covers, and waits until Misa holds them up—as if it’s not his bed—to slip under.
There’s some awkward fumbling with the chain, and Misa almost yelps loudly when the cold metal touches her stomach, but both Ryuzaki and Light are experts at moving around the restrictment by now, and in no time Misa has gotten what she wanted: Ryuzaki’s free arm slung around her, his breath fanning hot on the exposed skin of her neck.
Misa stretches towards the bedside table to switch off the light, and when plumbed into darkness, they say their goodnights and go to sleep.
Except that Misa is suddenly not sleepy at all. She was on the verge of it, earlier, but all this good mood is making her energetic, and with none of the commitments that her life as an upcoming idol used to have, that energy is…travelling a little lower into her. She’s feeling restless—in a non-entirely unpleasant way. It’s like she’s waiting for something to snap so she can start moving once again.
Alright, so maybe what she’s trying to get at is that Light has been kinder but still won’t touch her, that Ryuzaki is looking prettier by the day, and she wants to get fucked.
There. Spoken into the universe.
There’s no clock on her side of the room, at least not any visible in the dark, but a long time must pass as he lays there with her eyes wide open, every sensation narrowing down to Ryuzaki’s thigh pressed almost accidentally to her backside, before he finds it in herself to speak.
“Ryuzaki?” she whispers very, very softly. “You awake?”
He sounds completely lucid when he replies. “Yes. I suspected you might have been as well.”
Misa turns in his arms, trying to discern his expression in the dark. She can’t see much of anything, but there’s a hitch in his breath when her breasts brush on his ribs, and she has to bite her lip to contain a smirk—it really is so easy to get boys all hot and bothered! “I can’t sleep,” she murmures, making sure she’s breathing over the sensitive skin of his neck. “Keep me company?”
“I—” Ryuzaki exhales deeply from his nose, shifting on the mattress to adjust to their new position. “I don’t know how I could be keeping you more company than this, Misa-san.”
“I meant that I want to chat, silly!”
There are two options now: make him relax, or wound him up tighter? Misa thinks back to the night she accidentally flushed him her underwear and got him mouthing at her ankle with that hungry, half-lidded look to his eyes, and decides to test a theory.
She purposefully slides her foot up his leg, trailing her toes on the inside of his calf until she meets the tender spot where his knee bends. “Pillow talk is a thing, is it not?” she adds in her sweetest, honey-drenched voice.
Ryuzaki freezes at her touch, and the second his leg twitches away from hers she thinks, hearting dropping to her stomach, that she might have taken things too far. “Pillow talk implies…other activities,” he says, giving Misa no clue on how to read his tone. Doesn’t he ever get tired of playing cold and detached? And, for all that matter right now, doesn’t Light?
She pouts and shuffles closer, pressing her face to his chest. “Didn’t know you were an expert.”
“Trust me, I’m very much not.” Gingerly, because she can feel the tension in his shoulders as he ponders the move, he circles his arms more intimately around her and sinks one hand in her hair, petting her slowly with careful, repetitive brushes of his thumb. Misa would start purring if she could. Maybe this is enough for tonight, just the feeling of being cradled in his arms, his chest rising and falling under her ear?
She’s considering giving up on her ingenious seduction plan, except that then he says: “Never had an opportunity to pillow talk with anybody, actually.”
And that, to her, sounds a lot like confirmation to something that she’s been wondering about for a while—probably since she met him, and took one glance at his hunched stance and spirited eyes: is he a virgin?
Yes, yes he is!
Suddenly she has a plan of action.
Notes:
Next week: L gets laid...almost. He does some stuff of the sex variety, that's for sure.
Please let me know what you thought! Even just an emoki dropped in the comment section will make my day <3
Chapter 3: Give Over - I
Summary:
She pinches his side, and he barely bites back a pained hiss. “Meanie. Have you ever touched a girl, Ryuzaki?”
L’s eyes widen at the phrasing. “I—n-no,” he stutters, only because it’s difficult to stave off the images the question is providing, of his hands exploring a woman’s body, when a woman is right there already in his arms. “Have you?”
Notes:
Finally, some smut in what was supposed to be a pwp fic! This chapter starts right at the end of the last one :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
3. Give over I;
give oneself over: devote or surrender to a particular purpose or use.
“Never had an opportunity to pillow talk with anybody, actually.”
L realises his mistake the second the words are out of his mouth. This is what he gets for indulging so shamelessly in schmoozing with his suspects: he gets sloppy, reveals things about himself that should be kept secret. He almost referenced Winchester to Light just a few days ago, and over something inane like food, of all things.
But no, no, calm down, he chastises himself, what’s the Second Kira going to do with info about your sexual inexperience?
He’s not even ashamed of it, not really. He figures most of the embarrassment ingrained in people about their virginity comes from peer pressure in high school—maybe the latest half of middle school as well; L has skipped all that with little regrets, and as someone who’s been dealing with death since he was so young it would have sent children psychologists packing, worrying about getting laid of all things seemed a little…stupid. Above him, really.
The desire was there, undeniably. It came to him in abstract forms, and even at its worst—that is to say, when he was fifteen; a wretched age to exist in, if you ask him—the fantasies were of heat under his hands and pressure on his ribs; whatever the actual act of chase-and-seduction, of awkward flirting, was as he observed it in other people or in unrealistic movies, remained entirely alien to him. To this day it’s filled with rules that appear to him nonsensical and impossible to grasp—and really, who? Even if he’d wanted to try, if he’d gotten too desperate to feel the weight of someone else on him, under him, that he’d tried to play that game; who would have he had sex with?
Aiber. Aiber was good looking and charmed by L even when he finally caught him and left him no chance to con-man his way out of jail, so in hindsight he probably would have gotten L face down meowling into a pillow in no time at all, but at the time L hand’t even thought about it. Months later, when he’d made the realisation and Aiber was at his beck and call because he had saved him from a long, long sentence, the thought of giving him a booty call out of nowhere was too sad and too far into the grey area of consent, so he’d discarded the idea before it’d even fully formed.
Merrie Kenwood—Wedy—is the only other person he can think of. She was the culprit of the kind of old-timey Hollywood-noir crime that L can’t resist, and the main reason why he added or at least a million dollars in damages to his clauses for picking up a case: she’d stolen five paintings from a private collection, not one drop of blood spilled, and it’d been the first time that no one raised brows at L for being so delighted by a case. No one got hurt, it still was fun, and when he finally got her in handcuffs she’d smirked, and looked extremely gorgeous even through the camera of his live feed. Too bad that L had been only sixteen at the time, and Wedy well into her adulthood. If she would have gone for it, he’d rather not know.
And Beyond?, a small voice supplies in the back of his head. Yes, yes, Beyond…who would have let L eat him alive, given half the chance. L is undoubtedly egocentric, but losing his virginity to a boy who was trying to become his perfect mirror is a step too far, even now that distance has made his heart grow a little fonder.
Back in the present, Misa has no outward reaction to his groundbreaking revelation. He’s starting to think that she’s already been assuming L is a virgin, considering her numerous jabs at his appearance and personality—which havebeen coming less and less frequently, but are still fresh enough in his mind.
“Do you want to play twenty questions, then?” she whispers on the skin of his neck. L, glad for the dark, lets his face contort into whatever expression it wants at the feeling her warm breath on his skin evokes, and he suspects it’s something quite desperate.
“Misa, you don’t think I know where this is going?” He entangles his hand from her soft hair and lets it lay on the pillow. “Go on, end my misery and ask the question.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then Misa huffs a quiet laugh into his chest. “Alright, Jesus, you’re no fun!” she whisper-yells. They’re lucky Light really is a heavy sleeper, because they’re not being that quiet in the stark silence of the room. “Here it comes, then…”
“The anticipation is killing me,” he deadpans.
She pinches his side, and he barely bites back a pained hiss. “Meanie. Have you ever touched a girl, Ryuzaki?”
L’s eyes widen at the phrasing. He knew that she was going to ask, but he wasn’t expecting her to go for such a…sensual, for lack of a better word, version of it. “I—n-no,” he stutters, only because it’s difficult to stave off the images the question is providing, of his hands exploring a woman’s body, when a woman is right there already in his arms. “Have you?”
“What, touched a girl?” Misa chuckles softly.
L shrugs as best as he can when laying on his side. “Sure, why not? Is Misa offended by the notion?”
“Obviously not, ugh, so defensive! I don’t like girls, but I have been with guys before.” A beat of silence, and her hand clutches urgently at his shirt. “Please, don’t tell Light! I—I didn’t know him yet, and I didn’t even like it that much, to be honest, so—”
“Ssh, Misa-san,” he shushes her gently. He gathers both her wrists in one of his hands, tugging them away from his clothes and up, until she gets the hint and wraps her arms around his neck, letting him gather her up and even closer to his body. “I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine,” he whispers directly in her ear. God, she smells so good, it’s making his head spin; and she’s so small and pliable, too, fitting herself easily to the curve of his body, it makes him think he could just pick her up like a doll, use her however he—
“That’s not fair,” she murmurs back, voice barely a breath. He shivers from his nape down to the base of his spine. “Because I was about to ask if you want to get rid of your secret.”
L takes much pride in his intellect, but there’s no denying that he short-circuits for a good five seconds at that. “Oh. Does Misa Misa have a friend she wants to introduce me to? Because unfortunately I can’t afford to reveal my iden—”
Misa squirms in his embrace, tugging at his hair with impatience. L bites his tongue mid-sentence to silence the shocked moan that threatens to come out of his mouth at the feeling of Misa’s fingers clenched meanly at his roots; he widens his eyes and searches desperately in the dark for her expression, but the night is unforgiving.
“You know what I mean,” she says low, and her pouting is so excessive he can hear it in her voice.
“I was under the impression you found me, and I quote, ugly and perverted.”
There are suddenly teeth on his jawline, nipping softly at the skin where his stubble is slowly growing back in. “Misa is feeling charitable,” she says, giving L a taste of his own medicine by uttering the words against the shell of his ear. Instinctively, lost to the rising tempo of his own heartbeat, he digs in fingers into her waist, and the soft indent right above her hips is a hell of its own.
There’s no way she’s being serious, a voice tells him, and you’re being used because she’s bored, or to get back at Light for ignoring her—as if he’s not reaping all the benefits here, either way. With a little effort he could even convince himself that this is useful for the case, and that giving the Second Kira something that the Kira refuses to might just be the break he’s been looking for. There is, after all, precious info to be plucked straight from Misa’s brain.
Not that he could care less about any of that right now.
“A rare mood,” L whispers back. “Very kind of you, Misa-san. Alright, then, we can—I’ll go along with whatever you want.” Don’t say it. “Please.” Oh, come on!
Misa giggles with one hand pressed to her lip to stifle the sound, and L steals a deep breath of whatever girly scent of conditioner is lingering on her hair before she’s rolling onto her back, leaving his chest cold and hands empty.
His heart drops to his stomach. He blinks at the darkness, feeling as if he’d just been showered with a bucket of cold water. So it was some sort of cruel joke?
He steels his jaw, preparing to drop some bored comment about not being in the mood to be MIsa’s plaything—at least, not this kind of plaything—when he feels Misa’s small hands pawing at him until she finds his arm.
“So polite, Ryuzaki.” She tugs him closer, and L lets her manhandle him into whatever position she wants, unsure if the emotional whiplash was intended or if he’s just more anxious than he realised. He ends up, to his great shock, with his head resting on Misa’s soft chest and one leg thrown over hers.
“Why am I over here now?” he mumbles, Misa’s heartbeat echoing muffled in his ear.
“Like this you can touch me, silly.” Her fingers sink back into his hair and travel up and down his nape, destroying whatever last vestigial doubt L had about letting any of this happen. “You’re a grown man, and you’ve got this very serious career, so many responsibilities—it won’t do that you don’t know how a girl is made, don’t you agree?”
“I do know what the female anatomy looks like, Misa-san,” he protests, willing to draw her a diagram if she doesn’t stop insulting his intelligence.
She appeases him immediately by hugging his head closer to her chest, which in turns pushes his face right into the softness of her breasts, which in turn melts his brain into a mush. He can’t say that he hates the feeling of having his mind wiped clean for once.
“You’re so annoying!” she whispers, “I’m trying to flirt and you won’t get the hint, as usual!”
“As usual? Wait, you’ve flirted with me before?”
“Ugh, not the point!” Misa takes his hand, the one free from the handcuff, and places it firmly on her own stomach. “Anyway, you may know what we look like, but not how we feel like.”
L spreads his fingers on the flat surface of her abdomen, moving softly to the rhythm of her breath. “I can’t argue with that,” he mumbles distractedly, and he decides that if Misa is teasing him with no intention of going through with this, then she can slap his arm away when he goes too far for her tastes.
A sharp shock of pleasure grips around his stomach when his fingers finally slip under the hem of the underwear. The tension in the thin cotton pushes his touch more firmly into her skin, and she’s bare under his fingertips, so smooth and hot just the thought of it makes his erection throb painfully. He goes from merely interested to rock hard in the span of two seconds.
Misa stretches her legs long under the covers, rubbing her thigh on his cock almost innocently. “You can go a little lower,” she says on a whisper, and L bits his bottom lip almost bloody to keep silent. Under his ear her heart is beating furiously, and it’s getting difficult to distinguish what is his own pulse thrumming in his veins and what is hers.
He slides his hand lower. His middle finger follows the gentle cleft of her folds, and he finds her already wet when he dares to keep pushing down. Misa shudders through a silent moan, and L wishes more than anything that it wasn’t so dark still so he could study and memorise the expressions Misa makes when he’s touching her like this.
Settling for categorising every little sound coming out of her mouth instead, L forcibly releases the tension from his shoulders and sinks into the simple pleasure of having his hands full of a beautiful woman.
“Misa should tell me if she wishes to stop,” he murmurs low. Carefully, he tries to open her labia with two fingers, sinking the middle into her opening just enough to gather more slick. Everything’s so slippery, her naked thighs clenching around his wrist when he tests his knowledge by rubbing circles in what he’s pretty sure is her clit, it’s making him sweat almost in sympathy.
“Duh,” Misa whispers, exhaling sharply on the final h. Her grip on L’s hair tightens, spasming between harsh tugs and soft caresses to his scalp. “Will do. Not now, though. W-what has Ryuzaki learned?”
He hums softly on her collarbone. “That Misa must have a gorgeous pussy.”
Misa gasps, one hand leaving L’s hair to, from the sound of it, slap over her own mouth. They both stop dead in their tracks at that, and L strains his ears for any signs of Light waking up or even turning around in his sleep.
There are none. His breathing resumes. “Be careful,” he advises.
“That surprised me, just don’t say perverted stuff like that again!”
“Well, but it’s true.” He grinds purposefully on Misa’s leg, letting himself get some friction on his cock—less to get relief and more to prove a point. “I’m a skilled liar, but I don’t know how I could be lying about this.”
The silence lingers, and L didn’t think he’d live to see the day Misa Amane goes speechless. Now that he’s given in to the need of paying attention to his cock, it's nigh impossible to stop—he hazards another roll of his hips against Misa’s soft, warm body, and as a reflex he rubs his fingers on her clit a little rougher, abandoning for a moment the tentative exploration he started with.
Misa arches under his touch, gripping his wrist tight but not pulling him away, her nails digging in almost painfully, and he thinks she’s taken her bottom lip between her teeth, but he can’t see, God, he wishes he could see—
“Like this?” he asks with his face hidden in the incave between her shoulder and neck. L repeats the same motion, dipping lower to wet his fingers before returning his attention to where her folds converge into a delicate bundle of nerves. The more he touches, the wetter she gets, and it’s all too easy to circle rough around her clit until she’s almost coming off the bed in an attempt to push into his touch.
“Can Misa tell me, if—if she likes it like this?” he tries again. The attempt to bait her into praising him is transparent, yes, but L is desperate for anything right now, he can’t believe what a sharp agony arousal can be. He should be worried about not shaking the bed, or accidentally kicking Light, but his cock is leaking profusely in his boxers and he couldn’t stop the rolling of his hips if he tried.
“Y-yes, Ryuzaki, God,” Misa pants into his hair. She’s making a valiant effort at being quiet, and L thinks her voice gets all breathy and soft when she’s turned on, categorising the information alongside everything else he’s found out tonight. “Are you sure you haven’t—ughjustlikethat yes—done this before?”
L bites her collarbone to stifle the grunt that’s building in his throat. “I’m an extremely quick study.” His face is liable to burst into flames at any moment, and the knot of pleasure tightening around his stomach the more Misa melts into his touch, her legs faintly shaking, drains all thoughts from his head.
There’s only one that stays—almost a casual observation, really—which is that he’s started to sweat at some point, and he’s dampening Misa’s chest and neck with it; her hands where they’ve sunk into his hair. She’ll need to shower, is what he thinks, I made her dirty, and…and it’s that, of all things, that makes the elastic coiling tight in his belly snap; it’s that that shocks some dormant, animal part of him to claw its way to the surface, and he comes hard with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes rolled back in his skull.
If Ryuzaki stops she’ll kill him.
She doesn’t need whatever powers he’s convinced she has as the Second Kira, she will simply get mad enough to do it bare-handed.
The heel of his hand rubs against her clit again as he shifts his fingers lower to slide over where she’s throbbing. An inexplicably clear need to get filled shakes tension into her whole body—Misa can’t put it into words, but she’s sure that Ryuzaki fucking her properly now would right the world on its axis again, and she doesn’t spread her legs wantonly only because his weight keeps her pinned down as she is.
Yesyesyes she thinks frantically, hoping with mild disinterest that she’s not actually chanting the word out loud. There’s no thinking straight, there’s no avoiding the moment: she loves his mouth panting hot on her neck, she loves the feeling of his hard cock through the thin layer of his boxers, she loves his fingers on her pussy, all wet because of her, going along with the rhythm she’s set with her hips. Ryuzaki seems as desperate as she feels, and a very small part of Misa—shrinking by the second—is terrified that the way he’s moving against her will shake the bed too hard, or that when she comes (because she’s so, so close) a moan will rattle out of her and wake up Light.
She can’t keep the presence of mind to worry about that too much, though. Ryuzaki finally slips two fingers inside of her, fucking her with them like he means it, while his thumb keeps up the circling motion. Misa spasms so hard on the bed at the jolt of stark pleasure that she curls off the mattress, vision whitening and her hands cradling Ryuzaki’s head close to her chest.
“Oh, fu-uck, Ryuzaki, yesyesyes—” she whispers into his hair, “don’t fucking st—” and then words fail her, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. The leg not held down by Ryuzaki’s own instinctively curls around his waist, and with trembling arms she lowers herself back onto the mattress, praying her breathing is not as loud as she thinks it is.
Her legs are shaking with the aftershock. Ryuzaki has stilled his fingers, along with all other movements for what she can tell, but still Misa trembles and presses her face into the pillow when he carefully moves out of her, gently cupping her pussy with his palm instead of slipping his hand out of her underwear. Which is soaked, she thinks to herself, a thought that ought to gross her out but for now just makes her feel sexy. Ruined, probably.
Ryuzaki shifts up the bed, his breath fanning over her cheek the only indication that his face is much closer to hers now. “Was that satisfactory?” he asks, sounding like another person altogether. The edge of tender desperation is so alien in his tone, but not unwelcome.
“Ah-ah,” Misa hums. Is her brain still in one piece? Did it leak out of ears? She’s pretty sure she’s got a dopey smile on her face.
“Mh. I’m glad.” His hand presses more firmly between her legs for just a moment, and then he’s pulling it back fully—much to her chagrin. The contact had felt nice. “Just to be clear,” he adds, “that was—I made you come, correct?”
If not for the boneless, post-orgasm state he got her in, she’d snort at the question. As it is, her eyelids keep fluttering shut without her consent, and she can only stretch languidly against him while biting softly her bottom lip. “Ryuzaki,” she whispers, twirling a lock of his hair between her fingers, “you want me to feed your ego? You really are just a man.”
Carefully, he moves on the mattress until Misa can sense him sitting up between Light and her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he mumbles. There’s the sound of him rustling under the covers, or whatever the hell he’s doing, and then the distinct metal click of the handcuffs being opened. “I’ll be just a minute. Does Misa need a…towel? Water?”
Misa curls up on her side, snuggling into the pillow. “I didn’t make that much of a mess.”
A sigh so quiet she has to strain her ears to hear it whistles through the air. “Can you? Make that much of a mess?”
Heat flares up all over her at the words, shooting her eyes open once again to stare at the darkness. Ryuzaki is slipping out of bed by crawling towards the foot of it, and she’s glad that the neon numbers of Light’s clock are only bright enough to make the vague shape of him distinguishable. That means her face is also hidden in the shadow, and he can’t possibly see the blush creeping up her neck. “Pervert,” she murmurs viciously, and if it comes out a little more heated than she intended, so be it. It’s not like he doesn’t know I want to fuck him, now, she reasons to herlself, but still, to ask that!
Her legs clench under sheets. Would he go for a second round if she asked all nice and pretty? Scratch that, he didn’t even finish! “Ryuzaki, wait, don’t you want me to…?” She trails off, staring wide-eyed at his figure at the foot of the bed in the hope of catching any reaction.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll gladly take a rain check, Misa-san, if you ever have another lapse of judgement like this one.”
Misa pouts, turning over in the bed with a frown. “It wasn’t a lapse in judgement,” she mutters, “I thought long and hard about it. Loooong and hard, Ryuzaki, sounds familiar? Sure sounds familiar to me.”
The hunched form of him shifts from foot to foot, giving Misa the impression of a weed swinging to a light breeze, and then she can trace his steps to the bathroom door on the far side of the room. “Misa misunderstands,” he says while slipping into the adjacent room, “I’m not depriving her of—”
“My fun!”
He stumbles on his words. “Oh, yes, her-her fun. It’s just. I already—I need to clean up. Goodnight, Misa-san.”
Misa’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead, her pout opening into a surprised O. He’s really not like Light at all!
She buries her giggling in the soft fabric of her pillow.
L softly closes the door behind him, making sure to accompany the movement of the handle so it makes no sound.
He switches the lights on, blinking away the momentary blindness until his reflection in the mirror fades into focus—his flushed, sweaty face, the mess Misa made of his hair, the still-frantic rise and fall of his chest—and he promptly folds his knees under himself, sliding on the floor.
Holy fuck, oh my God. He drops his forehead between his bent legs, grimacing at the offputting sensation of his wet boxers drying on his skin, and tries to process whatever the fuck just happened. She wanted to make me come, too.
He stays on the floor for a long time.
Notes:
Re: L sitting on the floor on the his bathroom having an existenxial crises: that's just what pussy does to a mf.
I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know in the comments what you thought xoxo
p.s. I added one more chapter to the count because the sex scene in the next one got way too long to fit in the epilogue; also since this is going to have a Light/L/Misa sequel, with L as the condiment in a Kira sandwich (sorry about the gross metaphor), I'd love to hear any ideas you might have about the three of them in bed lmao I already have some stuff in mind, but there's always place for more...
Chapter 4: Give Over - II
Summary:
Misa will be furious, or heartbroken, or both—either way, L intends to make her feel better if she’ll let him. Afterall, just because she can’t come to him, it doesn’t mean he can’t go to her.
Notes:
Writing this has been inconsolably horny work. I apologize in advance for the abrupt ending, but the smut scene was getting way too long to edit on time, so I had to retroactively find a good spot to cut it in two!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
3. Give over II;
To allow oneself to experience something fully or completely.
“I can’t believe she did all that without consulting any of us!” Light shoves the toothbrush more aggressively in his mouth, glaring at his own reflection while L, who’s way too busy trying to hold back laughter to comment, calmly applies toothpaste on his own.
Light says something through his mouthful and there’s no hope of deciphering it—L got the gist of it hours ago, anyway.
“Misa acts recklessly, puts herself in danger, and somehow gets her own way,” he comments, and starts brushing his molars. “How is this new information?”
After angrily gargling some water—managing, God knows how, to make the action look clean and elegant—Light dries his lips and shoots him the kind of cold glare that L can appreciate to the fullest even through the mirror. “You found it cute, didn’t you? She went straight to Higuchi, L, she could have ruined everything. Ugh, wasn’t Matsuda’s mess already hard enough to clean up?”
L lets the toothpaste foam drip down his chin because he knows that it grosses out Light. Light grimaces and rubs his own towel on L’s face to clean the mess, roughly enough that L has to slap his hand away before he loses one more layer of skin. “She could have died, is what you meant to say. That’s why you were worried, isn’t that so, Light-kun?”
Light dabs some cream or other under his eyes while L finishes up brushing his teeth. “Pick a lane, Ryuzaki,” he says with affected indifference, “when I’m acting my best you claim I’m boring enough to, and I quote—” L has no doubt he really does have some quote of his memorised, “—bring to the surface your latent masochism as a coping method.”
“I’m still proud of that one.”
“A bit of a mouthful, you should workshop it some more,” Light comments, steamrolling over the interruption, “anyway, I’m boring when I’m polite and I’m, what…out of character, when I’m justifiably irritated?”
“What character,” L replies, letting the questioning tone lay forgotten on his tongue, “you can play so many so well.”
Light sighs the sigh of the deeply exasperated. “Tomorrow, L,” he says, “tomorrow you can psychoanalyse me to your heart’s content. Spare me tonight, it’s been a tiring day.”
Don’t mention it, he tells himself, don’t jinx it for yourself!, and then promptly says it anyway.
“Mh, I guess I’ll be magnanimous. Am I correct in thinking that you don’t want Misa to share our bed tonight? Your very nice girlfriend who helped a lot in furthering the case, hasty methods aside?”
And mysterious circumstances. Like hell he believes Higuchi bought that she’s the Second Kira without proof, and is just so thoroughly head over heels (or, well, that he wants to get into her pants so bad) with Misa that he confessed his own crimes.
He’ll dig more tomorrow.
Light, turning briefly to look at him, smiles like the prettiest of sharks. “Wow, you really are the world’s greatest detective.”
L sighs at the ceiling, affecting a mild annoyance at having to change their sleeping arrangements again. I can’t stand him. I can’t stand his awful, perfect face.
Damn it, how come Light holds the reins of his sex life not only without being directly involved in it, but without knowing at all? Sure, it’s only been a couple of days of said sex life even existing; and sure, there hasn’t been the occasion for a repeat performance yet, but still. The unfairness of it all!
L was hoping that the status quo would last a little longer…he’d have been happy to only have one cherished memory of Misa’s nails on his scalp, and her smooth legs tangled with his own, and yes—yes, God, her hot wet cunt squeezing around his fingers as she arched off the bed and came because L was touching her, not Light, L. He would have been more than okay with that one glimpse into a reality where things like that happened to him, if only he could still have the excuse to hold her at night. To ground the moment in reality.
“Well, why don’t you tell her?” he replies, words pressed into the fingertip of his thumb.
He regrets the stress he puts on you a second later, but hides it well. And yet Light catches on, stopping the motion of checking how well-defined his jawline is, or whatever the hell he’s doing while staring in the mirror, to glance at him with narrowed eyes.
“You don’t want to tell her yourself,” Light comments dryly. “Because you don’t like the idea. Is that it?”
Not a day goes by where L doesn’t get reminded of the double-edged sword that is finally finding someone who thinks like him. “It’s not like Misa doesn’t behave at night,” he offers, aiming for the tone of a reluctant, but guiltless confession. Truth is, I’ve been behaving much worse. “And she makes a comfy pillow.”
Light laughs, but with an edge of cruelty that L finds out of place in the conversation. He’s been on edge since Light made the offer to have Misa sleep in their bed, waiting for him to twist it into a cruel joke against L somehow, but with Misa quiet as a mouse about the whole thing during the day—almost as if L isn’t the only one who would like to not break their fragile equilibrium—and gladly wrapping herself up around L at night, there really hasn’t been an opportunity to destroy L’s ego. His ego has historically been kept well fed, and now, with the fresh memory of a gorgeous model hugging his head to her breasts as he made her come, is more sated ever.
So why is Light badly trying to hide how pissed off he actually is?
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” L presses, “Misa hangs from your lips. She loves you to a pathological extent.” He follows Light back into their bedroom with his gaze glued to his sculpted profile, smirking when Light theatrically rolls his eyes as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I have noticed, L, thank you,” he replies. The chain drags on the floor when he bends down to slip off his socks, throwing one at L’s head without looking up. “I have nothing to be jealous of. It’s just—well, it’s cute that you ’re not immune to the charm of a pretty girl. Who would have thought?”
“I could have told you that.”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
“I was under the impression you were here as a suspect on a serial killer case, not to gossip and talk about romance.”
Light straightens up after a moment of silence, staring at L from down his nose—how he manages when he’s the one sitting down, L has no idea. “Jesus,” he scoffs, “romance?”
“Hyperbole, Light, ever heard of it? Or of jokes, perhaps?” L can feel a migraine threaten to surface from behind his eyes, so he exhales deeply while forcing his shoulders and jaw to relax. For added catharsis, he climbs up onto the bed in the most obnoxious way he can think of: still standing up, he stomps his way to the other side of the bed by almost flattening Light onto the mattress.
“Territorialism isn’t a good look on you, by the way,” he comments idly. He finally sits down on his side and fishes his laptop from the floor. “And as I said, completely unnecessary to boot. Misa would throw gasoline on me and set me on fire if it got her some attention from you.”
He wonders as he says it if the notion hurts at all, in some recess of his personality that still stubbornly holds a tiny flame of desire for a normal life, for friendship, for a girl to pine after. He’s either too fossilised into this state of barely-human prodigy that has been built for him, and that he indulges in shamelessly—only a letter for a name, faceless to most people he interacts with, barely a voice on a screen—or the problem in the equation is Misa herself. After all, L struggles to separate her from the fanatical intensity of her love for Light…even when it’s L she’s clinging to. He knows she’d rather it be Light, he knows she probably closes her eyes and thinks about him and uses the dark of this bedroom as plausible deniability.
Light takes his own laptop from the bedside table, and settles as far away from L as he can without actively falling off the bed. “Maybe she should do it, then,” he says while staring at the screen.
L taps the pad of his index finger on his bottom lip, holding back a smile mostly for the sake of comedic timing. They’re playing mad at each other—at least, L is. Whatever bout of jealousy Light is going through is revealing him for the immature golden child he is, and L cannot take him too seriously. “You’d let the Second Kira do the dirty work for you?” he says in the end. Implying that Light is Kira never fails to piss him off.
“For someone who firmly believes Misa and I are serial killers,” Light replies, tone even but betrayed by the aggressive way he keeps clicking on the mouse buttons, “you sure don’t seem to mind sharing a bed with us. You seem hellbent on it, actually.”
“I can multitask, Light-kun.”
Light huffs. “Whatever, this is getting boring. Tell Misa that she should stay in her bedroom from now on, won’t you? And let’s get a few more hours of work in before we sleep—we have to coordinate this Sakura TV thing, at least try to make Matsuda come out of it alive.”
“At your orders,” L deadpans, but obediently picks up the phone to shoot Watari a text. Can you please inform Misa she should not come to our bedroom tonight? And not to wander around again, if possible. Thank you, Watari.
He doesn’t wait for a reply, tossing the phone on the bed between Light and him, probably to get lost in the sheets.
Misa will be furious, or heartbroken, or both—either way, L intends to make her feel better if she’ll let him. Afterall, just because she can’t come to him, it doesn’t mean he can’t go to her.
In the end, he has to wait until 2am to unlock his wrist from Light’s.
Light insisted they should go to sleep for real roughly an hour prior, but between the need to hash out the details for the plan to smoke out Higuchi, and the combative mood Light had gotten himself in since Misa’s stunt, it took a while before they actually settled down for the night.
Slipping out of the bed undetected is almost too easy, but L would never complain about the lack of challenge when it comes to evading Light in his sleep. Even before anything with Misa started, he was grateful for the few hours alone it granted him.
He slithers out of the room without a sound, and then he’s off to Misa’s quarters with a manic energy thrumming through his veins that he recognizes as anxiety…but pleasant? His stomach hurts but he revels in the feeling. It’s an interesting phenomenon.
Misa is really messing with his brain. He’s loath to admit that she has any power over him, but the truth of it is he’s biting his nails to the quick, hoping she’ll let him touch her and hold her again.
Her door is only one elevator trip away, and soon enough L is knocking on it while lightly shivering in the cold of the hallway. He rolls his weight back and forth from his heels to his toes while he waits for Misa to open, ears straining for any sound of her moving closer.
The handle turns, and Misa peaks at him from a sliver of the open door with one tired, red-rimmed eye.
L takes his thumb away from his teeth to extend his fingers in a lazy wave. “Hello.”
Misa sniffles. “Hi. Are you here to tell Misa not to bother you guys again in person?”
“Actually, Misa” L says, hunching his back lower until they’re face to face—well, with still the door in the middle. “I’m here to tell you I’d like to sleep in your bed. If you’ll have me, that is.”
Misa stares at him from under her lashes for a long moment, and when she finally lets L into her room, she does so with a sad little smile and glassy eyes. “Oh, Ryuzaki,” she sighs, throwing her arms around his neck, “It’s Light who doesn’t want me there, is it not? But I did a good thing today! I helped with the case!”
L fumbles at the sudden handful of soft curves he gets, looking down in alarm at Misa’s blond hair, the only thing he can see with her face pressed on his chest. “W-well,” L tries to reason, “you basically served us Higuchi’s confession, but with the deal you made we also can’t find how he kills. At least for the next three days. So you did help, but also made everything more difficult.”
Misa leans her head back to glare at him, narrowed eyes and a pout firmly in place. “You’re very bad at this.” She pushes her hands under the hem of L’s shirt, raking her nails on his lower back. “That’s not how you get into a girl’s bed.”
The feeling of her nails biting into his naked skin sends such a clear shock of electricity down his spine that it raises him on his toes, rocking into Misa’s embrace with his heart in his throat. “I wasn’t—well, okay, I was trying to get into your bed. Apologies. What should I say?”
Misa makes a show of sighing dejectedly while giving L the kind of enticing, eyelash-fluttering look that would devastate a lesser man. L, whose intellect and cold pragmatism have yet to meet a rival outside of Light, only weakens at the knees a little. “First of all you tell me that I did good,” she says softly, “but you have to mean it!”
“Misa-san is proactive and determined.” He gives into the urge to do what he always longs to when Misa is parading around in her tight corset dresses, which is to circle her waist with his fingers spread, squeezing gently to feel the give of her stomach. “Both qualities that I admire.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Misa argues, swatting one hand on L’s chest just to leave it there, the warmth of her palm on his sternum raising goosebumps over his body anew.
L takes in a shuddering breath. Surely she can feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest, he thinks, vaguely mortified about the whole situation. Maybe he is a lesser man; maybe he couldn’t get any lesser than this. “You did a good job,” he says, not even thinking through if he means it or not, “y-you were good, Misa.”
A step backwards by Misa makes him stumble, but he regains his footing and follows her motions. She lifts her hand from his chest up to his hair, where her fingers sink in deliciously, nails biting softly at his scalp, and L bends his head low and curls over her while listening to her whisper in his ear, “you know what I want to hear. Please, Ryuzaki?”
“Jesus, Misa,” he mumbles, his expression morphing into something pathetic that he allows only because he’s keeping it hidden in the crook of her neck. “You’re a good girl, is that it?” he says heatedly, already hard in his pants, “you’re a good girl, you’re my—” He flushes crimson up to the tip of his ears, eyes springing wide open. I don’t think she wants to hear that. “Please, can we…” He leans back, just enough to press his lips to her temple, his touch travelling up to cup her jaw. “Last time we didn’t even kiss. I feel like I’ve done everything backwards.”
Misa keeps walking backwards, getting them inexorably closer to her bed. “Aw, Ryuzaki.” She turns her face a few degrees and rubs her cheek on his like a cat. “Would I be your first kiss as well?”
L thinks back, frowning a little as he tries to concentrate. “There have been a few pecks on the lips,” he concludes, “I barely remember them, though. Is it…offputting, that I’m so inexperienced?”
“Not at all,” Misa replies candidly, “I like that I can teach you about this stuff.”
“You enjoy having the upper hand. That fits the Kira profile…”
Misa huffs loudly against his skin, getting annoyed like he knew she would if he brought out Kira in a moment like this, and L tilts his face enough to catch the last of her warm exhale on his lips. “You never shut up,” she mumbles there, and then there are teeth tugging at his bottom lip and then finally, God, finally—he feels it like hands clenched around his neck relenting their hold long to enough to get a lungful of air; the sheer relief of it—she locks them together, her tongue curling hotly around his, and L’s mouth is not his own to speak with anymore.
Another step that he barely registers taking, and they’re falling onto the bed. They stumble, and their mouths come apart ( tragedy! ), but L recovers quickly by licking at the seam of her lips while they rearrange on the bed.
He’s a live wire. Only the most delicious strawberry shortcake baked specifically for him by a very grateful master pastry chef in Paris—what a wonderful payment for a solved case that had been—has ever come close to making him feel like this. L slides his hands up Misa’s back to hold her weight up for a more thorough exploration of her mouth, and she squirms enticingly under him.
“Mmh Ryuzaki,” she giggles when he tries to do three different things at once, and ends up just sort of spread out over her with her wrists in his hold and his knees bent awkwardly. “Calm down, calm down!”
He lowers his forehead to her shoulder, sucking at his bottom lip to chase the last taste of her. Calm down. Easy to say. “I’m sorry,” he says, rearranging his body to the side of Misa’s, taking his weight off of her, “I seem to lose my head when I’m around you.”
Misa positively beams at him, an expression he thought was reserved for Light and Light only. “I haven’t even done anything yet,” she teases, and pushes L more flatly on the bed with one manicured hand, quickly rolling on top of him as L tries—and fails—to do anything but watch it happen with a wide-eyed arousal so strong it might as well be terror.
She settles on his lap, right where his cock strains against the fabric of his sweatpants, and keeps her hands on L’s ribs, a firm hot pressure that he feels like a branding iron. She arches her lower back, then rotates her hips forward, and laughs when L gasps and rocks up to chase the friction.
“Misa,” he breathes, instinctively pushing up on his elbows and falling back down on the mattress just as quickly. He doesn’t know where to put his faintly trembling hands, can’t concentrate on anything but the heat and the softness of Misa’s ass grinding on his clothed erection, and her folded legs squeezing around his hips at every motion.
Misa leans lower, her golden hair closing around their faces like curtains. “Yes?”
Alright, maybe he has a few ideas where to put his hands. One goes to splay wide on her lower back, the valley of her spine under his thumb; with the other he cups her nape, dragging her lips closer to his, chasing another kiss. Why are they talking? And why did they stop kissing in the first place? He was enjoying that greatly.
“Yes, what?” he mumbles.
“You said my name—nevermind,” Misa giggles softly, eyes dropping closed in delight. “You’re cute, Ryuzaki.”
“I’ve never been accused of that before,” he replies, which for some reason earns him Misa’s tongue in his mouth and her fingers tugging insistently at the hem of his shirt.
He lets Misa manhandle him out of it, sucking in air for the few seconds the fabric takes to pass over his head, and then he’s tugging her back down on him, her breasts pressed on his naked chest, hands in her hair, going back for more of the kissing-me-stupid she initiated.
Time blurs. He could do this for hours, but he thinks MIsa only allows a few minutes of making out before she pulls back and smiles at him with spit-slicked lips and her bangs falling in disarray over her forehead. “You came all on your own the other night,” she says, sitting tall and proud over his lap, “made me real sad, Ryuzaki!”
L blinks back the fog clouding his mind, a quest not helped by how his cock presses up against the cleft of her ass. “I seem to remember you were too busy to even notice,” he replies, palming her thighs.
Misa’s hands leave him to go to her own hips—playfully, or so he hopes, glaring down at him. “I swear, you men all have such egoes! I’ll show you how fast I can make you lose it, Ryuzaki.” In a matter of seconds she’s slapped his touch away and shuffled down his body, while L, breath suspended in his throat somewhere alongside his heart, spreads his legs to make space for her.
“I won’t complain about this, obviously,” he says, watching Misa hook her fingers in the waistband on his boxers like it’s the most fascinating act he’s ever witnessed, “but something tells me I’ll lose this challenge, and I do hate losing.”
“Then tell me to stop,” she replies innocently. She stares at him, he stares at her, and in the end all he does is lift his hips to make the process of getting him naked all that much easier. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she giggles, and when his pants and boxers have hit the floor she settles back onto the mattress, breath fanning hot over his erection.
L says nothing. He tends to stay silent when he has nothing clever to say, it’s just rare that such a moment occurs. There’s not much he can do, virtually at the mercy of Misa despite their position on the bed, so he settles for brushing her hair back, holding it loosely in one fist so the view of her face is unobstructed. Misa drags her tongue right over the slit where precum keeps beading out, staring up into his eyes through her long lashes.
He almost jumps off the bed at the feeling or wet heat over his cock. “Alright, now I’m sure I can’t last long, Misa, let me take care of you first,” he pleads, bringing one thumb to his lips to distract himself.
Misa winks, and gives the tip of his cock one more kitten lick and a kiss before pulling back slightly. A whine builds up in his throat at the loss of her mouth, but he swallows it down with a wide-eyed look of embarrassment. Her feet are swinging back and forth in the most clichéd impression of a teenage girl at a sleepover, and L imagines for a moment that Misa is laid down between his legs with her tongue on his cock because she has nothing better to do, and he could be easily replaced by a fashion magazine and a cherry lollipop.
He flushes crimson red at the notion, and keeps his thoughts to himself.
“I have a plan,” she says, lazily pumping his erection with her long nails carefully kept at bay. “Do you wanna hear it, Ryuzaki?”
“Of course,” he sighs, eyes fluttering when she briefly rubs her soft palm over the head, smearing it wet with precum before dragging her touch back down to the base.
“I want you inside me,” she starts, and L feels the words like a thousand volts to the base of his spine. Jesus Christ, if the plan involves making him last longer, maybe he should tell her to shut up now. “But Misa wants your first time to be really good so you’ll never forget about her—”
“You’re at the centre of the most intriguing case of my career, I could never forget you anyway,” he interrupts with a rush of words, slurred slightly by the press of his thumb on his bottom lip.
“Aww, Ryuzaki’s so sweet!” Misa rewards him with a firmer stroke to his cock that makes his head fall back onto the cushioned headboard. “But wait, don’t distract me! My plan! I was saying, you need to take the edge off first. Ryuzaki is so young and handsome, if I make him come, he can get hard for me again, can’t he?”
L’s hand leaves her hair, because he needs to physically cover his face with both palms and breath through the moment. Misa’s tone is playful and sweet, but he feels the condescension churning in his stomach, making waves of mortified shivers roll down his limbs. The mix of praise and the childish use of the third person sends his brain spinning, and even as he grimaces behind his hands, more blood rushes to his cock, and he hardens in her hold with a twitch and copious amounts of precum leaking onto her fingers.
“What does me being handsome have to do with it?” he grits out from behind his palms.
Misa, in lieu of an actual response, simply giggles, the sound getting muffled when she wraps her lips around the tip and sucks hard.
“Ah, fuck!” L gasps, dropping his hands off his face and curling over her with his jaw dropped open. “Yes, yes, I can get hard again, as many times as you want.” He grips her nape tight with not one thought running through his head, and Misa sinks a little lower onto his cock with a pleased hum. “Please, keep doing that.”
When he manages to straighten again, he looks down to find Misa with her eyes closed, eyebrows titled like she’s focusing hard, and a healthy red flush over her hollowed cheeks. His cock stretches her lips wide open, and L gets a peak of her tongue on the underside of it when she slides back up, slurping around the head like he really is just a popsicle in her favourite flavour. L’s never paid much attention to his own body, only ever distantly aware of the shape of it under his clothes, where he couldn’t use it to paint a certain picture of himself in other people’s heads, but the thinks now while he brushes his thumb over her chin, that he looks manly next to Misa’s petite frame, and that he must be well-endowed is she’s struggling to take more of half his length into her mouth.
“Just like that, Misa,” he whispers heatedly, chest shaking with his heartbeat. He holds her hair back again and Misa flashes him a look, splaying her free hand over his naked stomach. “D-don’t hurt yourself, this is enough. You’re so good, such a good girl.”
Misa moans around his cock, and her nails scratch over his abdomen before she’s pulling back for breath, pumping his erection with fervour. “You’re so fun, Ryu,” she says adoringly, and her tongue darts around to circle around the sensitive head of his cock once more. “Light would never let me do this!”
Is she thinking about him while sucking me off?, he thinks, and he gets to the brink of an orgasm so instantaneously that he’s afraid he’ll blackout.
“I think—I think Light could be convinced,” he pants. As if they’re acting without his input, he finds himself with one hand around the grip Misa has on his cock, and the other with its fingers pressing into her cheeks, keeping her mouth open in a slight pout. “Maybe we should show him the, the footage from this room, so he knows what he’s missing on,” he babbles, and then, “Fuck fuckMisa, I’m gonna come, you should—where do you—?”
“On my face,” she says simply, and sits there all pretty with her tongue lolled out and her eyes fluttered closed. L groans deep in his throat, stomach concave at the hit of her words, and moves Misa’s hand faster over his erection.
Instinctively, he pushes her face closer to his crotch to feel the searing heat of her mouth brush on the tip of his cock. L is seconds away from losing it, just keeping his gaze focused so he can memorise every detail of this scene is a herculean effort; sweat has damped his hair at the roots, and some distant part of himself recognizes he’s been panting like a dog for the past few minutes. “Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s too late to stop now, and the most Misa could do is wrap her lips around the head and have him come down her throat instead—which, God, next time, if she lets him—and yet he adds, voice barely a breath, just for the sake of saying it out loud, “I’ll make such a mess of you, you’re gonna make me come so hard—”
Misa opens her eyes, half-lidden, to raise one brow at him and quirk her lips up in a teasing smile ( Promise?, the look seems to say), and then L is painting white strips all over her face, his orgasm punching out of him with such an intensity his thighs start shaking under the biting hold Misa has on them.
His hands fall back to his sides, but Misa frowns at him and sets a firm rhythm with her own that drags pitiful moans of hypersensitivity out of him, and more come pooling directly on her tongue.
L slumps against the headboard with a heaving chest and no energy to even keep his eyes open. Endorphins are rushing through his veins, and he feels positively stupid with it—he manages to refocus back on the present only when a pleasant, warm weight settles on his lap.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” Misa says, a pout easy to hear in her voice.
“Of course not, who do you take me for?” he argues, but it takes a series of soft slaps to his cheek to finally get him to open his eyes.
He’s greeted by the image of Misa gingerly cleaning his release off her flushed face with L’s own shirt—poor Watari, he the one who does the laundry—a watery brightness over he irises and her lips full and bitten-red. “Ryuzaki is mean,” she comments, really laying the puppy-dog eyes on thick, “you did all this and then didn’t even look at me.”
So needy, he thinks, with a considerable amount of warmth, way too high maintenance for Light.
“Misa looks beautiful like this,” he sighs, stealing his shirt from her to pass over the areas of her face she’s missed. “Of course you are, there are men who’d kill to get the chance to do this with you. But you know that already. Why do you want to be told so often?”
“Because it feels nice, obviously!” She swats at his chest and squirms over his naked lap, pushing L more heavily into the headboard. He’d guess that she’s both embarrassed by being put on the spot, and way too turned on still to actually get mad at him; L, blinking away the last of the afterglow, takes the weight of her hips in both hands and settles her more fully onto one of his thighs, guiding her into a grinding motion.
“Mh, I have to admit that it was pleasant when you called me handsome,” he comments idly. The fabric of Misa’s underwear, some lacey, barely-there black piece, is soaked even before she starts to rub herself on his leg in earnest. It’d be enough to make him hard again if he had had more time to recover. “Although I distinctly remember many times when Misa called me ugly and creepy…and yet look how desperate just sucking me off got you. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Ugh, you’re awful.” Misa fists his hair at the nape, swearing softly under her breath as she grinds with purpose on his thigh. L smiles and gathers her close by the waist, sinking his nose in her hair to breathe in the sweet scent of her conditioner. “I like you better right before you come, I think.”
“Yeah, I like you like this plenty, too,” he replies, pawing at the naked skin of her back under her flimsy tank top.
“Ryuzakiii,” Misa whines, “you’re really gonna make me get myself off like this?”
“No.” L circles one arm around her waist, keeping her tucked closed to him, and shifts himself up on his knees. It’s no shock that his competitive nature would follow him even in this context, and the more he thinks about it the more he wants to leave a lasting impression, and show up if not Light himself—who, at this point, obviously has zero intentions to give Misa what she wants—then whatever fantasy she’s concocted about having sex with her perfect boyfriend. “I want to eat you out.”
tbc.
Notes:
Bet you've never seen oral sex used as a cliffhanger. That's because it's not that good of a cliffhanger (although I'm really proud of how the scene of L going down on Misa came out...you'll see, you'll see!).
As usual, thank you everyone for reading, and if you want to make my day I'd love to hear what your favourite part was <3 If I can I'll post the rest of this two-parter a little before than usual, but I'm really busy with school and work so I can make no promises unfortunately.
Chapter 5: Give Over - III
Notes:
Finally.............more smut. I'm sorry in advance for the couple of paragraphs here and there that I didn't fully edit; if you find horrible mistakes remember that no hablo ingles actually, I've just memorized a lot of words.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Give over III;
given over to: to use something someone for a specific purpose.
“I want to eat you out,” he announces, and drops Misa on her back on the bed. Just saying it out loud sparks something in him, and out of nowhere he wants to put his mouth on her with a ferocity that surprises even him. Misa yelps and dissolves into delighted giggles when L lays down on her body and starts sucking wet kisses on her neck.
“Oh, yay!” she laughs breathlessly, giving him access to more skin with a tilt of her head. “I’ve always liked it a lot, but the last guy I slept with wouldn’t do it.”
“Do you often bed absolute idiots?” He tugs the straps of her tank top down her shoulders and kisses in a line over her collarbone. “I must be a nice change of pace, then. I’m brilliant; I’ll lick your gorgeous pussy just like you like it every single day if you want.”
“What, while you’re working, too?” she asks, and gasps when L noses at the fabric of her tank top to move it lower, and sucks a bruise over the curve of one breast.
He pulls off with a wet smack, admiring his handiwork. “Mmh yes, yes,” he says, picturing the scene in his head, “I’ll lay you down over my desk, flip your skirt up, and get my tongue in you”—already air feels heavier in his lungs, his whole body thrumming with renewed urgency—”keeping my mouth busy always helps me think.”
He hears Misa muffle a trembling moan behind her palms, but he’s too busy dragging the last of her clothing down her stomach and off her legs to push her hands into the mattress. He wants to study the fine details of her expression, memorise the tilt of her brows or the flush on her cheeks when she’s like this, naked under him and desperate to be touched, and look out for the signs of it during the day. Will she think about this moment every time they make eye contact with Light right next to her? In the main investigation room? When he’ll accuse her again of being a mass murderer? God knows he’ll have memories of tonight playing in a loop in his head to the point of torment. EIther way, he’s got plenty else to stare at right now, so he’ll let her have the privacy of hiding her face.
L sits back on his heels, and watches unblinking the newly exposed skin of Misa’s body. He still quite can’t believe he gets to have this.
Misa drops her hands off her face, and grabs the sheets at her sides with a tight, perhaps nervous, grip. “Well, why are you all the way over there now?” she asks, clenching her thighs closer together.
“I’m thinking of new compliments to give MIsa.” He pushes his thumbs in the line formed between her inner thighs and her torso, and pushes up the softness of her legs that gathers there until it reveals a hint of her bare pussy, pink folds glistening wet. He has to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth before adding, “but the choices are overwhelming.”
Misa squirms, making an annoyed little sound at the back of her throat while reaching out for his shoulders. L gladly hunches closer to her body, and Misa pulls him into an open mouthed kiss that steals the breath from his lungs. “Staring is rude, Ryuzaki, I’m getting self-conscious over here,” she says after pulling back. “Anyway, you don’t have to pick a compliment. You can just tell me all of them.”
“Ah, I see,” he hums, and gets back right to where he left off by sliding down her body and licking whatever curve he deems mandatory to feel under his tongue. “I’ll compile a list and get back to you.” He cups her breasts in his hands, and his cock hardens considerably just at the feeling and visuals of it—he gives into the very typical-guy, lowbrow urge to push the weight of them together so her can sink his nose in the gentle cleft they form, and he kisses her sternum once, twice, while rubbing her nipples with the pad of his thumb.
“Ryuzaki, you promised!” Misa complains, squeezing his biceps in warning, “please, please, touch me, I’m going crazy.”
“But I wanted—” he starts to say, and finishes the sentence by closing his mouth around one of her nipples and playing with the hard tip with his tongue. He can physically feel his face heat up again, delighted by having a mouthful of such soft, delicate skin, but Misa pushes him down insistently, and with one hint of a bite and a mournful sigh, L goes along with it.
“Later, later,” Misa is saying. “Come on, please, I’m so wet, don’t you want to see how wet I am?”
“If I must,” he mumbles, but he can’t even keep up the façade of playful disinterest because yes, he does want to see how wet she is, so much so that he’s sliding one hand between her thighs before Misa can get his mouth there by pushing his head down the plane of her stomach.
L rubs his knuckles gently over her opening and up her folds, smearing them with slick. Words tumble out of his mouth unguarded, and “Oh, you’re dripping,” he says with what could be considered scientific fascination if he wasn’t also salivating at the thought of licking her clean.
“It’s your fau—” Misa starts to say, and the last of it gets lost in a high-pitched moan when L buries his face between her legs, lapping wetly at her pussy with his fingers clenched tightly around the top of her thighs.
He didn’t know what he expected—he’s surprised, in fact, that he hadn’t wasted a few hours a night wondering about it—but the taste of her is mild, non-sweet, the kind of experience that lacks daily life comparisons, and so will forever be burned in his mind as the sense memory of this specific moment in time. Already arousal pools in his stomach with urgency, sweat dampening his neck as he pushes his tongue over her opening, exhaling heavily through his nose when Misa starts writhing under his touch.
“Mmh God, Ryu u,” Misa moans. L opens his eyes to stare up at her, and while she’s arching too much for him to see her face, he gets the intoxicating view of the expanse of her stomach and her heaving, naked breasts, skin shining with a thin layer of perspiration.
He presses his tongue more desperately on her clit. She’d liked what he did with his fingers, so replicating it with his tongue should be a safe bet. He goes for tight circles and a gentle suction, frowning hard as he tries to focus on her reactions instead of his own cock, back to throbbing hard between his legs at every moan and graphic, wet sound that echoes in the room.
He needn’t have worried—it’d be impossible to ignore Misa’s responses if he tried. It must have cost her, last time, to stay so silent while L touched her; now that they’re alone she’s not so much loud as impossible to keep down, and all the sweet, scorching hot, words of praise and encouragement spilling out of her mouth are coupled with her hips rolling against his face, and her hands making an even bigger mess of his hair.
“Fuckfuck fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” she whimpers, and L wants it so bad it makes his head spin. He dips his tongue into her hole and lets her basically ride his mouth, her fingers clenched tightly on his bangs to keep him still—he can’t breath, not really, but it only serves to make him more desperate to feel her orgasm right then and there, with not much more use for her than his nose pressed on her clit and his overwhelmed moans offering some vibrations.
“After that—right after, I want you to fuck me, like, while I’m still shaking a-and dripping. You come up here and get your big cock inside of me and you fuck me like a toy, okay? You do whatever you want. Would you like that?”
Oh, God. L sneaks one hand between his stomach and the mattress to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock, trying to stifle the kind of desperation that will leave him spilling on the sheets if he’s not careful. He doesn’t pull back to answer—as if he could, with Misa pulling at his scalp so meanly—but hums and nods his most enthusiastic assent, deadset on remaining her own personal sex toy for as long as she needs.
It’s the single longest, most torturous minute of his life, and he’ll wear the memory of it thin on the sleepless nights spent alone staring at pixels; this he knows even before Misa’s legs starts trembling around his head, soft thighs pressed on his ears, and she spasms on the mattress with, seemingly, the single-minded intention of keeping L closer to her than anatomy allowes.
The tension leaves her body all at once, and her full-bodied grip on him slackens and falls away, only one hand left to gently pet at his hairline. L takes one gulp of air and blinks away the watery sheen over his eyes—wow, he really had been suffocating a little—and, aching jaw be damned, he keeps kissing lazily Misa’s folds and the swollen bud of her clit whenever the trembling of her thighs threatens to stop.
Misa makes a tiny overwhelmed sound and tries to close her legs.
L pulls back and lets her. “You seem tired now,” he says, massaging his jaw and hissing softly through his teeth at the ache. “Change of plans?”
“No, no other rainchecks!” Misa states, going as far as wiggling a finger in his face with the air of a politician gearing up to give the speech of her life. “I want to have sex with you,” she adds, which if you ask L is a compelling argument that would win her his vote in an election.
He’s so hard it hurts, and Misa is still wet and she just came on his tongue and now she’s all soft and pliant with her orgasm and—and L doesn’t want nor need to be asked twice. He crawls up her body and frames her face on the pillow between his forearms. “We have been having sex, Misa,” he says for the sake of making a point. “That was sex of the oral variety, I believe.”
“Of the oral—God, you’re dorky,” she giggles. Privately, in the split second that she scrunches her eyes closed, L smiles fondly. “I want to have more sex with you, then! Right now. Immediately.”
She starts to turn under him, but L acts on blind instinct and grabs her hip with one arm to push her back flat on the mattress. “Not like that,” he rushes to say in one breath.”
Misa frowns, pouts a little, but ultimately goes along with L’s movements. “Why not?” she asks while L sits back on his hunches and tucks his thighs under hers. “I have a very nice ass, you know!”
He aligns their hips and leans over until his cock touches the smooth planes of her lower stomach, gently shifting to get her lips, shiny with his spit and flushed a deep pink, open around the base of him. “You have a very nice everything,” he murmurs in reply. God, this is distracting. More precum dribbles out and pools over her abdomen. “I can’t take you from behind because I’m afraid I’ll like it too much.” And I want to see your face, anyway. “The more I like it the less it will last, I’m afraid.”
Misa bends her legs just so, and it both spreads her thighs and gets the soles of her small feet curved over his backside, a light but difficult to ignore pressure that makes his breath hitch in his throat. “So fucking me like this will be worse?” she asks all innocently, batting her long eyelashes at him.
“Alright, that’s it,” he decides, suddenly finding not being inside her unbearable and intolerable, “no more talking from you, you’re driving me crazy.” He can hear his voice shake and he can feel the slow widening of his eyes that surely can’t be all that attractive, considering that he’s caught himself in a reflection once or twice when excitement over a case or a really good cheesecake got him in this state, and he’d mostly looked like he’d shot up something.
He paws at Misa’s legs and hips while his mind spins between all the porn he’s watched and the articles on the Best Sex Positions For Women he’s read over the years, not really settling on anything that goes beyond please, dear God, just let me get inside you, but thankfully it’s Misa that nonchalantly wraps her fingers around the base of his cock and positions him where he needs to be.
Rendered mute, he lowers his body and kisses the bridge of her nose. “Do you need—anything?” he chokes out.
He means if she needs him to stretch her out with his fingers first, but all she says is, “It’s all good, I’m on the pill. Now come on, Ryuzaki, baby—” and then with a tilt of her hips he’s sliding inside.
The heat, the pressure, the sole knowledge of who he is and who she is and what they're doing overwhelms him terribly, and for a good fifteen seconds he's reduced to the dumbest man alive. His knees slip on the sheets and that rocks him deeper into her, which triggers a chain of reactions where Misa clenches around him, and L for the sake of him can't control the way his body just starts fucking her in earnest.
“Ah, ah, fu-uuh ck,” Misa moans, more sounds getting knocked out of her at every thrust, “y-you didn’t waste any time! God, Ryuzaki, nghh—”
He splays a hand on her hip and moves his thumb over her clit in clumsy circles. No matter how many brain cells are currently leaking out of his ears, he still remembers he ought to make this a good experience for Misa as well.
“Apologies, Misa-san, carpe diem and all that,” he replies. Sweat is beading at his forehead, flattening his bangs to the skin. Is this normal? His face feels on fire, liquid heat weakening his entire body. “Dum loquimur, fugerit invida ae—Jesus, Misa.” Lips hanging open to make space for all the panting and quiet moans being wrenched out of his lungs, he stares down at where his cock drives into her. “You’ve soaked my entire lap,” he comments, because he just noticed, and promptly his eyes roll back into his head for a brief second. Either pointing it out so blatantly heightened the pleasure of it, or he didn’t imagine how Misa’s cunt spasmed around him at the words.
Misa shudders through a high little moan, all breathy and purring, and sinks her nails meanly into the skin of L’s knees. “W-well, you did ask…If I—oh God—could get this wet.”
“So Misa knows I’m a visual learner,” he jokes, a little delirious with pleasure. Misa giggles but soon dissolves back into moans, which stokes the fire burning L from within enough to make him grab her thighs and well and truly bend her in half over the mattress. He leans all his weight into it, pressing open mouthed, sloppy kisses over her calves as he drives into her hard and deep.
Misa tries to follow the rhythm of his hips but L is keeping her pinned down, and she has no space to move apart from raising her arms to carve scratches on his lower back. “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he babbles, dripping sweat all over her legs, “is it okay like this? I don’t think I can stop, Misa-san, God, this is unbelievable—”
“It’s perfect, you’re perfect, keep going.” Her hands travel down to his ass, encouraging him to move faster and getting a shocked gasp out of him when she squeezes the muscles in her manicured hands and he finds himself very much enjoying the feeling. “Use me to make yourself come, come on, I want it, I want it, tell me I feel good again—”
“Good? Yes, Misa, you—” I can’t even think straight, this has ruined me! His eyes slip closed and he rolls his hips again, fucking her hard enough she starts slipping up the sheets. “You feel incredible. Can I really, I mean, I don’t have to pull out?”
Misa forces her legs out of his grip, and they fall open around his hips. L sinks down on his elbows gracelessly, fumbling to get his bearings as Misa sinks her fingers in his hair, tugging his head to the side. “Don’t you dare!” she whispers hotly, and takes the lobe of his ear between her teeth.
The new position gives him so much skin-to-skin contact that he physically can’t breath in air for a few seconds, overwhelmed as he is. “Oh, Misa, you’re a genius,” he mumbles, relishing in the feeling of her stomach gliding on his whenever he moves. He takes one moment to drop a kiss to her hair, holding back the orgasm that’s been building up for way too long to ignore, and then he’s raising his head so he can stare unabashedly at her breasts— up, down, up, down. up—as he snaps his hips forward. “I like this position. This…yes, I’m quite sure, this is the best day of my life.”
Misa smiles brightly, winks at him with her face flushed a healthy red. She wraps her legs around his waist, and L feels himself tremble in the cradle of her hips, wondering if he’s spent a whole life avoiding the touch of others because part of him knew he’d crumble to nothing at the first full taste of it.
“Will you let me do this again?” he whispers against her temple. The naked desperation that crawls over his skin is the kind he tends to avoid at all costs, but for how adept he is at masking emotions on a daily basis, he surely can’t be asked to get out of this experience unscathed. The whole world is obsessed with sex for a good reason, he’s willing to believe now, so here’s to hoping that Misa is also too lost to notice that L keeps slipping out of the persona he’s carefully constructed for himself.
“Every night, whenever you want,” she babbles, and tilts her face to catch his lips in a kiss that’s barely anything more than them breathing in each other’s air.
Her heels press on his lower back, driving him harder into her. Everything’s so wet and slippery, their sweats mixing over their skin and her soaked cunt gripping his cock tight when he tilts his hip almost accidentally and hits whatever spot inside of Misa can get to almost come off the bed.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, Ryuzaki, fells so good righthereplease,” she moans in a lithany in his ear, and L feels any coherent thought leave his brain, and whatever animal side of him is in control right now sets a punishing, frantic pace while trying its best to keep the same angle.
His breath keeps coming out in grunts and bitten-back moans, and with Misa hanging onto him for dear life he ends up sitting back on his heels to move her harshly over his cock. He was right, Misa is small and bendy enough that he can just get her thighs over his forearms and use her like a toy for the last few seconds before his orgasm hit—and she did ask him to do just that—so he lets mind blank out, and he pushes his hips up while dropping hers onto him once, twice, and then he’s coming so deep inside of her nothing will even drip out for hours.
For possibly the first time in his life, L fights lucidity for as long as his overactive mind lets him.
When, inevitably, he feels back within himself, he realises that he must find it within himself to make the first move to get out of Misa’s penthouse. If he doesn’t do it right now he’ll fall asleep for good, and Misa will be of no help because she’s still laying naked and boneless over him.
To be fair, he’s the one who let them fall on the bed like that after they both came, clutching her to his chest as he carefully slipped out and rearranged their legs for maximum comfort-to-skin-contact ratio. To be even fairer, he doesn't want this to be over. He lets a full minute pass by with only the sound of their harsh breathing filling the room, weighing the pros and cons of letting Light find out that 1) he gets out of the handcuffs sometimes and that 2) he’s having sex with his girfliend—ultimately he figures that said sex with his girlfiend is more likely to happen again if Light doesn’t have the perfect excuse to shatter her heart into pieces and end this sham of a relationship.
His eyelids feel so heavy. Losing his virginity turned out to be quite the workout.
“Misa,” he starts, and then Misa kisses him sweetly on the neck so he loses eleven more seconds listing all the cons again. “MIsa-san, I need to go back to my room,” he manages to say after that, “Light will wake up soon.”
Misa huffs and squeezes at his shoulders, but she does roll off of him to stretch with languor at his side. “You think about Light more than I do,” she complains, “something to confess, Ryuzaki?”
Oh-oh. Dangerous territory. “I guess Misa should know I do also like men,” he replies, weighing his words carefully, “and that our artistic sensibilities seem to match.”
Misa springs up on her elbows. “Wh—Are you saying you have a crush on my Light? Have you been doing… stuff?”
“As if Light would go for it.”
“ Light? So you would?”
L shrugs. “I indulge in temptations with little shame.” Misa gasps when L slides a hand between her legs, toying gently with her slick folds, still oversensitive from his rough treatment earlier. “Case in point,” he adds.
She escapes his touch by shuffling to the side of the bed. “Whatever, I still don’t like that you’re into my boyfriend.”
“Misa,” he sighs, “I’m here with you, aren’t I? And you’re here with me, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yeah, well, I’d pick Light any day!”
L sighs, staring at the ceiling. “You’re childish and cruel,” he says while biting at the skin of one fingertip. “Yet I’m glad I’m as close as second choice.”
“That’s—that’s kind of romantic, Ryuzaki.”
“No, it’s idiotic. I must take back my earlier statement: I am as much of an idiot as any guy you’ve had sex with before.”
“That’s just the effect I have on boys, silly! Don’t beat yourself up over it!”
L rolls off the bed, staying hunched on the floor as he looks for his mysteriously disappeared underwear. “I’ll have to go lick my wounds in private,” he says, and—oh, there they are, right in front of Misa’s overflowing wardrobe. She really flung them on the other side of the room.
He hears Misa do an evil little laugh while he’s re-dressing. “Haven’t you done enough licking for one night?”
Hanging his head, he lets himself smile privately for a few seconds. Misa is growing on him, unfortunately—but that’s a problem for after they’ve caught Higuchi. Turning around, now clad back in the clothes he came in, if not worse for wear under them (a shower is in his very near future), he finds Misa sprawled back on the bed like a picture of decadence. In another mood swing that he’s by now accustomed to, she seems not irritated with L lusting after her boyfriend anymore, and is simply enjoying the soft sheets on her naked skin.
“Actually, if I had the time,” L replies, leering at her body with the full strength of his stare, “I could have gone for a repeat performance.”
Predictably, Misa flusters under the attention but instead of covering herself up, she rolls on stomach in a move that does hide her face but leaves him ample opportunity to take one last look at her shapely, perky ass before he slides out of the room.
“I’ll hold you to that!” she promises.
“I should hope so.” L, one foot already out of the door, hesitates a moment. Should he avoid…? Oh, but at this point, what harm could it do. He walks back to the bed, and before Misa can even finish her questioning little hum, he drops a kiss to her cheek. “Have a good night, or what’s left of it,” he says as an explanation.
Misa’s expression goes from surprised to adoring in the span of a half a second, and she blows him a kiss as he finally, officially, manages to leave. “Night night, Ryuzaki!”
He closes the door behind himself and in the hallway he takes one deep, shuddering breath of the cool air that smells of artificial lemon and new, shiny furniture. Things just keep happening to him, don’t they? This case will have a grip on him for the rest of his life, however long that might be.
And speaking about the case…he has questions for Misa that he feels like she will answer now. If using their intimacy as an investigation tool is as morally reprehensible as he imagines, then—well, Light’s the only one who would openly argue with him against it, but in that scenario he’d be too busy trying to punch L’s teeth off for sleeping with his girlfriend to even get to that point, so he might as well give it a shot.
Notes:
I feel like a need a cigarette after all of that.
Please let me know what you thought! Even a single emoji makes me feel like I'm not shouting into the void, so drop me a strawberry in the comment section if you'd like <3
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