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Truly, Light’s been doing admirably well. During task force meetings, his eyes used to draw further down than what was completely appropriate, trailing down to where Chief Yagami’s center trouser seam traced his crotch, waiting as if he were a dog with a bone. When he’d shift, perhaps to cross his legs, Light would trail his auburn gaze up to Chief Yagami’s eyes. Chief Yagami would be staring at Light in likeness. L would be twitching, wanting to do anything meaningful with his hands, but lacking the guts. If he were more in tune with whatever draws him, inevitably, to Light, he’d perform some gesture, grab his hand and hold it. Steady him. But he doesn’t.
If Chief Yagami, god forbid, excused himself and stood, more than a few times, Light would stand in tandem, only tethered by L winding the chain the linked their cuffs and forcing him back into his chair, not so much of a gesture as a method of grounding someone being wound into a stupor, because following Chief Yagami—that must feel pretty fucking familiar to Light. L doubted that even Light realized he was constantly trying to follow his father into the bathroom. Usually, L would wait for a reasonable time after Chief Yagami came back, then he’d hobble his way into the bathroom after, yanking Light along, and he’d end up desperate, his lips stretched around L’s cock. That Light continued to describe as ‘not very long, but girthy’ to L’s displeasure.
L had known addicts in his lifetime, would consider himself one at times. It was like breaking an addiction, day after day, weening Light off of the dependency he had built on sating his father’s sexual needs. Light wanted it, needed it after that night he’d woken up from a nightmare suffering flashbacks and delusions, nearly unintelligible. It was terrifying to see someone as infallible as Light falling from grace so severely because he’d dreamed of his own father. It was a development L didn’t predict when he’d handcuffed himself to Light, that he might see just how ugly Light’s childhood had been, and just how much it affected him.
But it was going well, all things considered. Light continued to have nightmares, they continued to have sex after them. The nightmares were probably the only thing encouraging Light to make steps towards ending his incestual relationship. Well, that and the fact that L would have to be present for any incestual nonsense Light incited with Souichirou. L supposes he isn’t exactly helping Light annihilate his sexual dependency, rebuild Light’s confidence in the quality of his character, assure him he’s worth more than what he can bring to the bedroom.
He’s giving Light a new dependency.
But L has never claimed to be a good person, hasn’t even claimed to be a decent one, not after he’d sat in his office with his hand down his pants while he watched Chief Yagami fuck the living daylights out of his son through a screen. The cameras L told the chief he’d removed but didn’t.
He winds his fingers in Light’s caramel colored hair and grips, tearing Light’s mouth away from his erection, observes the way Light’s glazed eyes focus on the way L’s hard cock bobs in front of his face, curved and glimmering with spit. Light licks his lips in a completely performative way, in a way he knows L will find absolutely irresistible. L grips his saliva slick cock at the base, smacks it against Light’s cheek, then glides it down to paint a shiny trail on Light’s smooth skin.
“Enjoying yourself?” L asks, even knowing that his balls are already drawn tight and tense, on the verge of release because somehow, the banter is the best part of sex with Light Yagami. And even being assured that Light will be in bed with him at the end of the day, weepy and eager for L to spread his legs and fuck his woes away, he never wants it to end quickly, wants to draw it out as long as he can. Maybe L’s forming a dependency of his own. “You suck it like it tastes good.”
“Why don’t you come down here and tell me how it tastes?” Light shoots back, winding his hands in the drooping hem of L’s shirt and delivering a tug that reels L down more than he’d like to admit. Light’s stronger than he looks, L keeps forgetting that before all the sex, Light’s primary form of exercise was tennis, and despite how this case has wrung weight off of Light’s already thin frame, he’s by no means weak.
Nevertheless, L uprights himself (as much as he’s capable, with his chronically poor posture), and points the flushed tip of his cock back at Light’s plush lips. “Mm, maybe after I fill your mouth with cum. I feel like I’d get a more authentic flavor experience that way.”
“Promise?” Light asks, then kisses the glossy tip of L’s cock, which instantly makes the detective shudder. “You’ll give me a nice, passionate kiss?” Light kisses again, deft hand winding around L’s dick to stroke him, his lips lingering entirely too long on an entirely too sensitive part of an already dangerously sensitive appendage. “With tongue?” And then he starts honest to god making out with L’s dick tip, pink, wet tongue tenderly gliding over the blushing flesh, gently suckling his lips on it, and really, L’s surprised he slipped his mouth over L’s cock in time to catch his load.
And, wasting no time, Light slinks up to full height, slotting their bodies together, and then their lips. Kisses him, L’s still hot semen melding between their tongues as L can barely slip in labored breaths between moments of attachment. L can at least attest to Light becoming far more confident in his kissing skills over the last month or so of their intimacy, and he’s making L’s life a living hell with that confidence, mapping every ridge of L’s mouth and somehow managing to make that, what L often refers to as spit swapping, unbearably hot.
“How is it?” Light breathes, pulling away and wiping his mouth on his hand.
“Honestly, terrible. Your tongue did make the experience a little less grotesque, though. And I have a newfound appreciation for your ability to swallow.” L says, spitting his own cum into the toilet, pale lips painted shiny and kiss swollen. “So, I know now that you’re an utter liar when you suck my dick like that.”
“Maybe I like it.” Light replies, palming L’s cock before sliding L’s sweatpants back up, tucking his dick away dotingly. “I’ve always preferred bitter over sweet, you know.”
“I’m happy for you, then. And I’ll be delighted to continue sating your appetite for cum,” L places his hand on Light’s cheek, not quite hard enough to be considered a smack but it’s certainly not gentle when his palm lands, pinches Light and shakes him tauntingly before he shoves his picked at thumb across Light’s chin, gathering the pale white gloss there, then shoving it into Light’s mouth. Light glares, briefly, before he surrenders and sucks, “you didn’t catch it all, pretty boy.”
It’s not normal by any means. But the way L sees it, they’re as happy as they can be, chasing a serial killer while Light battles his own demons. And L had wanted the teenager from day one, the moment he laid eyes on his primary suspect, only wanted him more knowing that Light’s damage ran further than anyone knew, that his house had been a crime scene for years even before he was being suspected of a series of mass murders.
Can L reiterate enough that things were going good?
And then, right as their latest meeting is coming to an end and the rest of the task force is leaving for the day, Light looks like he’s just been struck by lightning. He looks paler than any asian teenager has any business being, and L naively believes that it’s something case-related, like someone’s having a Kira induced heart attack right before Light’s auburn eyes. Murder, blood, guts, shameless gore is just apart of their unconventional life and they all stomach it as well as they can without losing their humanity.
When he trails his gaze to where Light’s is, that’s not it at all.
Admittedly, L’s a little stunned too. Chief Yagami’s hand is around Matsuda’s waist (Matsuda? Jesus Christ, Chief Yagami, what a downgrade) and it’s only brief because L caught the display far too late, but it’s telling enough for someone with his observational skills and unfortunately, Light has intelligence of the same caliber, that’s one of the things L finds most attractive about him. For a fleeting moment, L wishes it had been something that they all now viewed as utterly mundane, another run of the mill Kira related murder, a criminal stricken by a sudden heart attack twitching and dying on the floor. But it’s not.
There’s a very long pause, where L remains stationary, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
“He’s fucking him.” Light finally says, voice even and apathetic, still white as milk. “My father’s fucking Matsuda, now.”
L nods, holds back a smarmy comment. He’s usually not delicate, and he doesn’t filter himself, but this unusual situation calls for a little more etiquette than L’s used to practicing. “Looked like it to me. Matsuda’s always been a little flamboyant, and with the way he looks at Chief Yagami, I’m guessing more than a few inferiority complex issues on that idiot’s end have led to this.”
There’s still the coldness of a storm in Light’s face, he’s staring a tsunami in the eye right now. A typhoon is about to kill everyone because as much as L enjoys a good mass murderer puzzle, natural disasters kill far more people than Kira ever will. Moments like these occur, where Light finds a blank space and stares, a million miles away, like there’s something there.
He’d done it even before the confinement so L knows he wasn’t the one to cause that particular crack in Light’s surprisingly fractured psyche. He would bet anything Light doesn’t even realize he does it, that aimless, hundred yard stare, haunting and flat. L would love to know if Light thinks while he spaces out because, as an outsider looking in, Light looks functionally brain dead while he performs this unusual ritual.
“I want to try something.” Light replies, life flooding back into his eyes and into his complexion, smiling with a head tilt. It’s like he’d never made that troubling expression at all. His smile wipes the slate clean, makes it difficult to remember what his most eerie faces look like. “If you’re up for it, that is.”
And as much as Light claimed that he was rapidly achieving his ideal version of perfectly normal, he’s still spectacularly breakable in a way that L knew the ins and outs of. He’s still sensitive to the prodding, even if he’s quick to make a quip about the horror that lives within him, his vile relationship with his dad. He can maintain a facade all he wants, but his body is transparent to L. Light is suspiciously good at posturing, pretending, hiding himself, that’s why L was so certain that Light was hiding his status of being a serial killer of epic proportions, but L’s been dissecting people his entire life. And this man, although brilliant and complex, is the same.
So, he doesn’t push. “Well, you don’t want to defecate in an adult diaper or something equally unnerving, right?”
Light smiles prettily, rolls his equally pretty, slim eyes. And it reminds L that Light’s not just a shattered teenager, he’s a snarky little shit. L didn’t fall for his broken pieces, he fell for his sarcasm and his unbearable wit. “I barely trust you to wipe your own ass, let alone mine.”
Yes, that’s the sort of sentence that leaves L hopelessly whipped.
That’s how he ends up in their shared room, with Light handcuffed (and it’s as awkward to fit a second pair of cuffs on Light’s already cuffed wrist as you think), his lean arms bent behind his equally thin back, bent over the desk, his pajama pants around his ankles. It’s not unlike their first encounter, given, it was in L’s filthy office and he was able to actually see Light’s face back then. Honestly, this whole situation is giving L an uneasy feeling. He feels like something’s about to tear out of him. It’s not about him, it’s about Light. And there’s a lot of psychology involved in this, evidence that maybe this isn’t as dangerous as it feels.
His hand is on his cock, he’s jerking off, his hand covered in lube. Just trying to stay hard, his other hand on Light’s ass, spreading it to see his clean shaven hole.
“So pretty.” L sighs, heat in his face, his ears, his neck. Other than his dick being out, his sweats around his knees, he’s fully clothed. “What the fuck do you shave here for, if not so that men can ruin your asshole easier? It’s almost like you want this, want to be bent over and raped, Light. Raped over and over again, until you’re ruined.”
It feels far more obscene than anything else L’s said to this man in bed, more lewd, more taboo because it is. If Light suggested this to virtually any other partner on the planet, they’d probably shoot it down immediately without even justifying their answer. Could you imagine if this were revealed to anyone with any sort of moral compass? That Light’s been getting assaulted throughout the bulk of his childhood by his own father, and now that he wants L to reenact the most mortifying portion of his gruesome adolescence with him, L’s actually doing it?
They’d think that Light’s insane for his request, and L’s a lunatic for nodding his head to it.
And they wouldn’t even be wrong. Light’s insane, L’s a lunatic, that’s why they slot together so well, filling each other’s gaps.
“No- I…” Light trails off. L has a feeling he’s having trouble assuming the role he wanted to play in the first place, so he nudges the tender tip of his cock against the pucker of Light’s unstretched hole, feels the teenager flinch and tense, “no! No, I don’t want it- it’s not like that-”
“Horse shit.” L replies, retracting momentarily while he squirts lubricant onto his fingers and onto Light’s ass, watching as it races down to coat the tight area between his cheeks, watches Light shiver when it rolls down his asshole. L unceremoniously prods a finger into him, swallows hard while Light grunts from the unexpected intrusion; he shoves in a second with just as much warning, which is to say, none at all. Light really hisses at that and L doesn’t lose steam. “I guess I’ll have to work that much harder to make this a punishment for you. Seeing as how you clearly like getting fucked by men to some extent, Light.”
“Punishment?”
“Yeah,” L swallows again, lining up and shoving in, knowing it has to burn for Light because it burns for him, “punishment… for being so shameless. Seductive. Like a succubus. You’re pretty and you don’t even try to hide it. You deserve to get violated.”
And for a second, L feels like slapping some sense into himself because really, does rape play usually have such emotional charge? Is this erotic, or is it just re-traumatizing an already spectacularly traumatized teenager? Is this hot, or just hurtful? This is what L doesn’t like because Light’s not quiet about how he craves roughness, to be manhandled, bitten, his hair pulled, shoved around. And L’s said more than a few demeaning things to him in bed. But this is still unexplored terrain and he can’t even see Light’s face.
“I…” Light hesitates, sounding frantic. “I’m… pretty?”
L pulls his fingers out, reapplies lube to his cock, stroking it back to full hardness. He doesn’t bother with a condom as he lines up and Light clearly struggles not to tense. “Feel this? This is how pretty you are. So pretty I have no choice but to fuck you over a desk, handcuff you so you can’t stop me. It’s infuriating, what you’ve driven me to. What you’re making me do to you.”
Light melts at that visibly, his tight shoulders loosening, and L rams into him, face immediately twisting as he bites down on a moan, and Light makes no attempts to mute his own shaken groan as his entrance strains to adjust and his legs twitch and kick and curl helplessly beneath him.
“I knew it,” L breathes out, multitasking—trying to continue the scene and not lose his fucking mind at the same time because God, they’ve been going at it like rabbits and somehow, some way, it’s still overwhelming to be balls deep in this brilliant, broken man, “that you’d like this… say it.”
“I like this,” Light squeaks out, voice drawn high pitched and trembling, “please-”
“Please what?” L retracts minimally, then drives back in with bruising force, the desk hitting the wall and pretty much guaranteeing that if he were renting, he would not get his security deposit back. “What do you fucking want, Light? You want it harder?”
“No!” Light gasps out.
L doesn’t listen and goes harder. “Liar.” And then he sends a short prayer to whoever is listening, and spits on Light’s lower back. “Liars get treated like dirty whores. But, I bet you love that, too.”
Light moans brokenly, voice cracking, and yeah, like this, he kind of does sound like a whore.
It’s the easiest part of this fucked up sexual act because if anything, being restrained is much more difficult than rutting like an animal in heat. He grips Light’s hips tight, bites his nails in, as he gives into the impulse he tries his best to stave off during their far more gentle encounters, he fucks Light like he’s trying to split him open. He holds his waist in place and thrusts hard, fast, untimed pace, unconcerned with Light’s comfort.
“Too-“ Light chokes out, “m- uch- it’s- hurting—“
“Don’t lie,” L hisses out, feeling sweat at his hairline as his bangs swish on and off his forehead to the rhythm of his relentless movements, “you wanted this. You were basically- asking- for it.”
“I wasn’t-” Light chokes out and L can hear the thickness of tears in his voice. He doesn’t stop. Honestly, Light seems far past the point of intelligible sentences and L’s curious, wants to test it, “I w- I’m-”
“You’re a whore,” L cuts him off, bowing down to get closer, lips in Light’s neck, “and- you moan like a bitch- when you get fucked. Say it.”
Light’s crying stammers, he sniffles noisily, and even L hesitates, hinging on his every word. Waiting for cries of red, their safeword, an indication that this isn’t everything Light was looking for. “Say… it?”
L winds a hand up, between the desk and Light’s smooth, defined chest, loosely cups Light’s twitching throat. He feels Light swallow anxiously and he drives his cock into him, a slow, deep stroke, and stays there. “Say that you’re a whore. Say that you moan like a bitch. You know it’s true, and I want to hear you say it, pretty boy. Admit it, that you’re getting off to this, turned on by your own assault.”
Another long pause as L waits. Waits to be told that he’s too good at being cruel and Light’s realizing that he should never have asked for L to play this role, because it’s disturbing that L fits it so easily. It’s too real and Light wants to tap out. L waits for the horror, the tears, prepared to pick up the pieces and take the ache into a shower he’ll have alone.
“I’m…” Light sniffles again, then coughs and arches prettily, “a- whore- I-”
Emboldened, L resumes. He drives in and out, taking out things that have nothing to do with Light on him. He hates that Light likes this, even more, he hates that he’s so hard and excited that it hurts and it feels like his heart’s going to give out. It’s not real but the fantasy is fueling him, reeling things out of L he didn’t know existed within him, or maybe he knew but he ignored it. “You what? Say it, whore.” He winds a hand in Light’s hair and yanks him up, peers over his shoulder and moans at the sight of Light’s straining erection. “You’re going to- to cum while getting raped. And you’re going to be a good victim and listen, or I’ll make what your father did to you seem- utterly- vanilla- in comparison-”
“I moan-” Light chokes on a sob, throwing his head back onto L’s shoulder and looking too desperate and devastated to put into words, “like a bitch! I moan like- like a bitch- I- I’m going to cum-”
“Of course you are,” L’s on the verge too, has been ever since he realized that he likes this so much that it’s troubling, “you’d be jerking your- own dick if I didn’t handcuff you just to- st-stretch you open on my cock, I guess I should- be nice and make my bitch cum-”
L barely has to touch Light before his insides are clamping down on L’s erection and making him see stars, Light’s cum spurts onto the shared desk, glistening. And L’s able to accomplish a few particularly deep thrusts before his orgasm tears out of him, and pulses into Light, into his throbbing, tight colon, and L squeezes Light’s limber body, less to keep him in place and more to root himself in place, like Light’s a stress ball as L suffers the motions of a terrifyingly intense orgasm, moaning through his teeth, pinching back tears, rutting into the spent teenager.
“All out of your system?” Light asks. Because he’s such a cheeky little shit, he won’t keep his mouth closed even while he’s handcuffed, flushed, covered in tears and snot, with thick ropes of semen in his guts.
“Shut,” L pants into Light’s sweat sticky shoulder blades, “up.”
“Say that with a little more conviction,” Light breathes out shakily, his legs still twitching from their exchange, “and I’ll consider it.”
L sniffles noisily, not quite crying, but definitely overwhelmed, choked up. Not that he’d ever admit it that somehow, someway, he’s the one distraught after roleplaying the bad guy. “You’re not scared.”
Light hums. “You’re not scary.”
But the normalcy of Light’s quips does more for L’s psyche than Light probably knows. To know that even after this, they’re still them, and Light’s not scared. To know that L, an indifferent, often obsessive, frankly creepy, man who just said and did abhorrent things to a rape victim, is not scary to one person. L wipes his face on the collar of his shirt and just holds Light for a second. Just for a second, L lets himself feel accepted, and he lets himself know that he is as dependent on Light as Light is on L. And L considers himself an addict at times.
Light’s wrists are bright red and L rubs his eyes, wondering why the hell he used real handcuffs and didn’t bother to get those furry ones that kinky fuckers are so often depicted as using. That’s what they are now, two insane, fetish riddled individuals, designed squarely for each other. It’s not just Light now. That’s a bitter pill to swallow, that L can’t say with full confidence that he’s not just as much of a sexual deviant as his deeply disturbed… boyfriend(?).
He’s lounging back, unbothered by the wounds, more of his aimless, empty stare. His eyes are puffy and bloodshot. L glides his leg through the water and nudges Light’s thigh with the heel of his foot, eliciting something like a response—a languid blink, blown out pupils shrinking and finding L’s indifferent face.
“Yes?” Light asks, smiling chillingly.
“You’re acting scary.” L mutters, attempting to run his fingers through his wet, slicked back hair, and immediately gets caught on tangles. “Can we broach one of two enormously massive elephants in the room?”
At that, more awareness bleeds in and Light touches his tender eyes carefully, seems mildly perturbed, then steels his expression. “My father and Matsuda. How am I supposed to feel about that?”
“Gee, I don’t know, I don’t exactly have a lot of experience when it comes to my horny dad ditching me for a male coworker young enough to be his son.” L deadpans and wishes that Light had tackled how mind blowing that rape roleplay sex was instead because that would be easier to talk about, somehow, someway. Another day, L guesses. “How do you feel? I don’t care about how you’re supposed to feel.”
“How I feel is going to disturb you.”
L snorts. “I’ve been looking at graphic rape, murder, dismemberment crime scenes since I was thirteen. There’s not much that can disturb me anymore.” That’s not to say that Light doesn’t make a valiant effort, what with the incest trauma, and how Light’s willingly indulged in his father’s fantasies for years and somehow thought for a majority of his adolescence that he himself was the one in the wrong. The one seducing his father, the one at fault. It keeps L up at night but it’s not like L gets much sleep anyway.
Light finds a spot on the ceiling to focus on. “I’m horrifically jealous. I’m so jealous, it makes me want to… do something horrible to Matsuda. Because I’m fully convinced that Matsuda’s some sort of minx, and my dad’s still the innocent one even though I know that’s not true. Matsuda’s not smart enough to seduce anyone. And I didn’t seduce my dad at the tender age of twelve. But it still feels that way and I don’t know how to make it stop. I’m supposed to be logical, brilliant, factual, and yet there’s still a part of me that thinks… my dad is still mine, and he’s still noble. If my dad’s going to cheat on my mom, at least it was always me. If it’s someone else… my blood’s boiling, right now.”
“Even though you know you no longer have a horse in this race.” L points out.
“Yes, I do.” Light shoots back venomously. “My mother doesn’t deserve to be cheated on, I’m grown but my sister-”
“Light, Chief Yagami clearly has a lot of repressed homosexual feelings coursing through him.” L interrupts bleakly, then stands, dripping, and turns—he sits down, between Light’s legs and falls back into Light’s wonderfully solid chest. He can hear the stun in Light’s heartbeat. He closes his eyes to chase away his own distress at all this vulnerability, all this newness. “He was always going to cheat on your mother. You’re just getting a glimpse into what he would’ve been doing from day one if he didn’t molest and unintentionally groom you. He would’ve been going after coworkers and underlings twenty years younger than him. It’s not your fault, and it’s not your business.”
“But Matsuda?” Light huffs, still disgruntled. He wraps his arms around L’s torso and rests his chin on L’s shoulder. “I’m straining to see the appeal. Maybe he’s easy. He’s littered with-”
“Daddy issues,” They say in tandem, then both dissolve into chuckles. It’s definitely cruel and unusual, them laughing at a coworker’s rocky parental relationship but L suspects they both deserve to get their amusement wherever they can find it in their weird, fucked up lives.
Even if it’s mean, a little evil.
There’s still a good chance that Light is a serial killer, or was one at some point, and Light laughing at the prospect of Matsuda getting beaten by a militant father growing up is not helping his case, but L honestly feels sick to his stomach every time he has to face the idea that Light is the culmination of everything he’s been chasing all these months. The notorious Kira, growing up being molested, breaking down in bed with him, riddled with nightmares, arching his back when L threatens to rape him ruthlessly. He can’t stomach it, so he’s been trying not to think of it. And it’s easy when Light’s wrapped around him. It’s easy to not think, to just exist with him.
“I’ll give you a better reason to be jealous of Matsuda.” L says once they’ve both calmed down but are still riding the high of laughter. “I think-”
“Oh, you’re not serious.” Light groans.
“Bear with me. Loyal, obedient, stupid Matsuda. He always looks like he has no idea what’s going on, he has a pretty mouth, and-”
“I mean,” Light sighs in surrender, “his ass… yeah.”
L grins. “Yeah. You see it, right? I want to walk him like a human pet.”
“Okay, I don’t see it anymore!” Light yells, then tightens his arms around L’s middle and lunges for his neck. He bites and L’s eyes blow wide, breath hitching at the sudden pressure, the sudden ache, then his eyes grow lidded. Light detaches, lays a wet kiss on his already wet neck, and smirks against the hot flesh. “Let’s see you get Matsuda and his impressively sculpted ass into bed with you now, Ryuuzaki. Though, I suppose he isn’t completely opposed to being a side piece.”
“Please,” L mutters, swallowing and feeling a little stunned by how impressively aroused he is just from Light’s sudden possessiveness, “Matsuda’s a last resort. If you spontaneously combust one day, I’m going for Misa.”
“Okay. A lot to unpack there. 1) she hates you, 2) she’s my girlfriend-”
“You mean your beard*?” L fires back, hit with a sudden possessiveness of his own. Misa, another part of this puzzle he hates to think about because the idea of Light riding off into the sunset with his dipshit blond princess in tow is repulsive to him. A jealous fire he hates to confront because it’s too human, too real. “Is she going to indulge in your rape play fantasy, Light?”
“... Huh.” Light leans back, taking L with him and sending water over the edge of the tub as it ripples with their shared movement. “Maybe if I asked? I think she’d walk off the face of the earth for me. Asking her to gear up in a massive strap on and pretend to violate me… I think she would. I’d pretty much rather gouge my own eyes out than ask, though.”
L scoffs. “But, you were absolutely keen asking me?”
“You’re different.” Light replies, uncharacteristically soft, smooth like melted butter. His lips too close to L’s ear, so his words stroke into his brain and make this whole thing feel surreal. “You’re… you’re something entirely different to me, than what Misa is to me.”
That makes both of them stop. L because he’s dying to ask what’s been eating at him since the first time they slept together, and Light probably because he’s an awkward teenager and doesn’t know how to proceed. L has no excuses, he’s a grown man, and yet he feels like if he voices his desires, that he wants to elope with Light, marry him in front of the entire world, and solve cases with his prime suspect until they die side by side and are buried in one big lovers grave, it may just be a boner killer.
L knows he can’t ever forget the Kira case, and how all the signs point to Light having committed genocide on the criminal population, but he wants to. He wants to wish amnesia into existent. He’s never wished he was a normal person, someone without the obsessive need to tie off loose ends no matter what the cost. Light makes him wish the world were kinder. And that’s unsettling. Light’s sparking something human in him even though Light himself was probably crueler than any human has any business being at some point, even if Light’s forgotten it all.
“Let’s cut the bullshit.” Light says at last and L looks up at him, to find Light staring down at him, his honey colored eyes focused. “We have sex like animals in heat, you comfort me constantly, I deal with your general grossness, and for what? We are infatuated with each other. I don’t think I could get rid of you if I tried. I don’t want to get rid of you even if you’re a huge pain in my ass, metaphorically and physically.”
“Light’s making me his new girlfriend?” L asks because he can’t stand to be serious about all of this. “Can I tell Misa Misa? Really rub it in?”
“Shut up, you turd.” Light swings an arm full of water into L’s face.
L gasps and snorts out water, shaking his head. “You tried to drown me. I knew you were Kira from day one.”
“Do something about it then,” Light is probably about to continue, but cannot when L twists around and dunks Light’s head down for a second, then gets up and out of the bath—he fails because Light grabs him by the waist and drags him back in and reminds L that although he looks like a delicate pretty boy, before all the sex, Light’s primary form of exercise was tennis.
They play in the bath and it’s easy to lose the obsessive freak in himself, and the mass murderer in Light, in the bubbly water.
They lose track of their trauma in a bath. They’ll find it again later, but for now? L has no idea where it went.