Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Of all the questionable decisions Light Yagami has made in his twenty-two years of life, visiting a nightclub is sure to haunt him for days on end.

It’s technically Ryuk’s fault that they’re here. That man with his carpe diem philosophy and bohemian spirit is a bad influence, and while he didn’t exactly hold a gun to Light’s head to make him march here (quite the opposite, actually), Light still blames him.

 Unless sick, Ryuk goes to The Gilded Den every Friday. He never forgets to mention that there is nowhere else on God’s green Earth where he’d rather be.

“Suit yourself,” Light would say, expressing no desire in joining him.

But.

There’s always a “but”.

If it were solely up to Light, they would spend tonight studying. They would spend every night studying. Ryuk’s mum would surely thank him for that.

Instead, they listen to loud 80’s music in a dimly lit place that resembles a dungeon, and while Ryuk is having a blast, Light has chosen to isolate himself in a corner, nursing a mocktail, wallowing in his ever-growing feeling of inadequacy.

Don’t get him wrong – he doesn’t have anything against clubs per se. And he understands that some of his peers view this place as their second home. But it’s painfully obvious that he doesn’t belong here.

And that is a bitter pill to swallow. Usually, Light is the centre of attention. Sort of a celebrity, if you like. Sought-after, swooned over. Always among the first ones invited to parties, karaoke nights, events that are supposed to be fun - but aren't.

Here’s why: first, Light is an early bird, which translates to “already tired”.

(Yes, he’s well aware it’s only 9:30pm. So what?)

Second, he only pretends to like socializing, just like other people pretend to like pineapple on pizza. His comfort zone is a tiny, narrow space that just can’t be enlarged. No matter how persuasive Light’s friends were in the past, Light was immune to their sweet talk. In the end, thankfully, they gave up, their attempts at moulding Light into a social butterfly ceasing into a cringey memory.

There you have it – he just can’t blend in with the other clubbers. His usual, dazzling grin is replaced with a sorrowful smile, his shoulders are slumped under the weight of boredom. He’s a martyr. A wild animal that’s been captured and sold to a private zoo of some crazed billionaire.

He takes yet another careful sip of his welcome drink. Virgin Moscow Mule is the name. Garnished with mint, it leaves an annoying, zesty aftertaste in his mouth. The only good thing about it is the absence of alcohol, because – as embarrassing as it might sound at his age – Light still can’t hold his drink.

At least he’s got something to grumble about; if he were to write a review, how would he rate this place?

Drinks: 3/5

Music: 4/5

Cleanliness: 5/5 (He has to give it to whoever is tasked with keeping the club spotless – people could eat from the floor.)

Overall, it’s not so bad here. But I suffer, so I won’t be coming back.

Satisfied with the conclusion, Light downs the rest of his drink, grimacing into the empty glass.

He wonders whether Ryuk will seek him out later, if only to tell him that Light will be spending the rest of the night by himself, since Ryuk will be busy entertaining some poor lad who fell for his cheap pick-up lines.

Jesus.

It’s not that Light is jealous. He and Ryuk aren’t fuck buddies, let alone in an open relationship. What Ryuk does in his spare time (and with whom) is none of Light’s business.

As for Light… He could have gotten laid many times. He likes both men and women and he doesn’t have a type. Pair that with his good looks and easy-going personality, and voilà – finding someone to spend the night with is child’s play.

In theory.

It’s not so simple in real life, and not only because of Light’s antisocial nature. The concept of sex is… Interesting but tricky, possibly even dangerous; while Light doesn’t have to worry about unwanted pregnancy, there are other things that make his insides squirm, such as STDs or inconsiderate lovers.

He doesn’t have time to deal with anyone’s red flags. He’s gone on a few dates, has kissed a few people, but things always took a turn for worse after that. So much so that anything else beyond kissing became unimaginable.

At twenty-two, Light is still a virgin, and he intends to keep it that way at least until he gets his Master’s degree. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, so Light makes it a point to be very uncurious. Nothing beside his academic performance exists.

But you can only hold out for so long when your freakishly tall roommate ditches one of his turtlenecks for a long-sleeved fishnet shirt every Friday. Right in front of you.

When the same roommate talks at lengths about how enjoyable a night in The Gilded Den is, you are left wondering.

At first, you are sceptical – and rightfully so. It’s Ryuk we’re talking about; he likes to exaggerate more than anything. And The Gilded Den is just a club, for Christ’s sake. Loud, likely smelly, with graffiti-covered walls and whatnot. A place where you have to keep an eye on your drink at all times. You don’t know what’s so special about it. You don’t understand where Ryuk’s unbridled enthusiasm comes from.

And yet, you can’t stay indifferent to it, either.

Go ahead and try.

No matter how much you resist, one day, inevitably, you’ll let Ryuk aka the drag queen fashion icon lend you a riveted belt with a skull-shaped buckle, and drive you to his favourite place on Earth.

So, Light’s here.

Ryuk promised him a great night.

“You’re in for a treat, fledgling,” he said.

Apparently, you have to be a member, unless someone vouches for you. So now, Light owes Ryuk a beer for a glimpse into a different world. For an assault on all five senses.

Fair enough.

This place is nothing like Light imagined; swarmed with people and buzzing with contagious giddiness, it resembles a giant beehive more than anything else.

It used to be a warehouse. Now, it’s a safe haven where you can unwind and socialize to your heart’s content. Popular with students of all subjects, it offers a cloakroom, a lounge bar, and of course, a dancefloor.

Right after they arrived, Ryuk declared that this is what heaven should feel like. (But don’t let him fool you – he’s a heathen. And he sure as hell won’t end up in heaven.)

There’s also a tucked-away section with an entrance hidden behind heavy velvet drapes, shrouded in an air of mystery. Ryuk refers to it as “the play space”, and supposedly, it’s where all the real fun begins – whatever that means.

No one is allowed to enter that part of the club just yet – not for another twenty-six minutes.

The best is always saved for last, eh?

Light just hopes it will be worth his while. That mysterious place is the only reason he still hasn’t called an Uber home. If there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s unsolved mysteries. What would you expect from someone whose father is the chief of police?

The suspense is enough for Light to withstand this torture, even though his patience is wearing thin. He’s never been very patient to begin with. Also, he probably won’t find anything too scandalous in there. Some recreational drugs, at best. But definitely not pentagrams drawn with blood or tunnels with stashed loot.

No matter. Twenty-six minutes isn’t that long.

With nothing else to do since mobile phones are forbidden, Light pretends to enjoy the music, thinking about home.

Oh, Sayu. What have I gotten myself into?

If, by some inexplicable twist of fate, Light’s little sister finds out about this adventure, Light will never hear the end of it.

Chances are, she wouldn’t believe him. Her brother going out at night? To a club, no less? Suuure. She’d probably tell him to stop fucking around, polite as she normally is.

“I’ve learnt my lesson,” Light would tell her. “Never again.”

Were he not scared of needles (and pain in general), Light would consider getting these words tattooed. Just so he could lift his shirt and read them aloud the next time he feels like doing something stupid.

Or better, the next time he feels like accompanying Ryuk anywhere.

Sayu would like it. She’d squeal with excitement before talking Light into getting a sibling tattoo next. And because there’s nothing Light wouldn’t do for her, they’d both end up with a koi fish, her favourite animal.

And their poor mum would probably have a heart attack.

Checking his wristwatch, Light sighs. Nineteen minutes before the drapes are pulled, revealing the heart of The Gilded Den. The real reason people came here today, the only reason they dressed up.

Light’s eyes scan the crowd; he thought Ryuk was eccentric, but this… This is a parade of unhinged fashion trends. Fishnets and elbow gloves, corsets and leather jackets. Clothes Light has only ever associated with gothic metal bands.

Which also means he sticks out like a sore thumb in his white button up shirt and grey trousers. Ryuk didn’t say anything about there being a dress code, so it’s not like Light should feel bad about his chosen attire, but still. Apparently, you don’t waltz into a place like this in normal clothes.

Atop Light’s perfectly styled hair sits the thorny crown of embarrassment.

He tries to appear unbothered, wondering if he should perhaps take the shirt off to blend in. It’s a daring idea; one that makes him blush briefly. In the end, he decides there’s enough exposed skin as it is.

To self-soothe himself, he hypnotizes his newest accessory; a white rubber wristband he was handed at the entrance.

“Bird ringing,” Ryuk called it with a deep chuckle.

While the reason behind wearing it is all but lost on Light (as is the meaning of the colour), it makes him feel slightly better. He would have liked yellow best, and he has yet to find someone whose colour matches, but the most important thing is that everyone has a similar wristband.

As long as I have this, I belong. I’m one of them.

Presumably, it also matters a great deal on which hand you’re wearing the wristband. Why, Light doesn’t know. Ryuk just told him to put it on his right hand, so that’s what Light did, no questions asked.

He was then met with an encouraging smile of one of the hostesses.

“It might get a liiittle bit too intense for first-timers,” she said, “But don’t worry. You’ll be fine. L is here today, so he’ll take you under his wing. He might seem intimidating, but he’s, like, the sweetest.”

 And then, Ryuk was ushering Light past the girl, excited and impatient.

Light looked up at him: “L?”

“As in ‘Legend’,” Ryuk grinned from ear to ear, but didn’t offer any further explanation. Shortly after that, he spotted a friend and went to say hi.

That was thirty-six minutes ago.

Still no sight of L.

Not that Light would know what to look for; no one bothered to give him a description of that mysterious man.

Thirteen minutes until the drapes are drawn.

The captivating voice of Annie Lennox attracts more and more people to the dancefloor. Scantily-clad bodies bump into one another, manicured hands of the staff keep offering glasses of juice and lemon water.

Ten minutes.

There are some fifty people, give or take. The air is chock-full of floral and spicy perfumes; only the corner in which Light sulks reeks of disappointment and hostility.

Lo and behold, one person doesn’t mind.    

With his eyes cast downward, the first thing Light registers is a pair of dirty sneakers. As if the newcomer trudged through mud to get here and didn’t mind in the slightest. Light’s gaze climbs up, scanning the faded blue of the person’s jeans, the creases on a snowy white shirt.

Looks like I’m not the only one despising latex.

Instantly, Light perks up a little.

The stranger’s right hand is thrusted into the front pocket of his jeans, while the left one, adorned with a black wristband, is holding a drink – something with lots of ice in it, decorated with a cherry skewered on a toothpick.

Decadent.

Light finally takes in the stranger’s face.

For all its symmetry, it cannot be described as conventionally attractive. Peculiar, maybe? Definitely hard to forget, what with how ghastly pale it is.

Black strands of tousled hair frame the heart-shaped face, and a pair of huge, grey eyes regards the world with the calm alertness of a resting beast. The dark bags underneath those eyes are the most prominent – and the most distracting – feature.

If you look past that, you see intelligence mixed with curiosity. Very few people remain this sharp and curious at such a late hour. Light feels something in his stomach swell and grow warmer at that sight. He knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help himself.

Messy-haired, sleep deprived, and utterly fascinating. So different from all these people.

Maybe I DO have a type.

“Enjoying yourself?” The man asks, and the rich, velvety rumble of his voice makes Light gulp. It’s enchanting and sweet, and if you scratch away at it, you find a layer of undeniable authority.

It prods at Light’s heart with glee.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Light is surprised to smell sage and pink pepper. People whose shoes are caked with mud usually don’t bother with cologne. Yet for some reason, this guy does. His seductive fragrance fills Light’s lungs, transforming into excitement once it enters Light’s bloodstream.

Only then does Light realize that he hasn’t answered the man’s question. He clears his throat, painfully aware of how dry it is, how hoarse his voice is going to sound because Light hasn’t talked to anyone for the past thirty-six minutes.

What was it the stranger had asked him? If Light was having a good time? Should he lie, tell the truth, or go for something in between?

“I’m getting there.”

The man nods, offering his hand: “I am L.”

L? The L!

Light shakes L’s hand, introducing himself in the process. L has a firm grip, reassuring, and it speaks of sincerity and confidence.

“Mind if I keep you company?” L asks.

“I’d like that.”

Don’t look desperate. Do NOT look desperate.

L leans his back against the brick wall, pointing with his chin at Light’s belt: “That’s nice.”

Subconsciously, Light brushes the buckle with the pad of his thumb. “It’s not mine. I borrowed it from a friend.”

“Ryuk?”

“Uh, yeah. You know him?”

“He comes here often.”

There is something almost wicked in the way L smirks.

Alas, the double entendre is lost on Light.

The two of them spend the next three minutes watching the people on the dancefloor (Ryuk is there, his twig-like waist and spindly legs boogieing to the rhythm of Laura Branigan’s Self Control). If this place reminded Light of a dark cell before, now, he can’t stop imagining a pressure cooker – if it gets any hotter in here and no one lets some of the steam out, the club will explode.

“So,” L speaks again, interrupting Light’s thoughts, “Are you ready for your rite of passage?”

That’s when Light’s lips part in genuine confusion.

- - - - -

Perhaps against his better judgement, L is instantly drawn to those lips.

They’re nice, kissable. A bit too dry – L would love to run his tongue over them, make them all shiny and wet. He would love to taste Light; to swallow every delicious moan Light would undoubtedly let out.

Call it a sixth sense, but L can tell if someone is loud during sex.

Alas, this isn’t why he searched Light out.

- - - - -

“Ready for what?”

Is Light expected to entertain these people tonight? What will they have him do? And why didn’t Ryuk mention any of this to him?

“Your rite of passage,” L repeats, pulling the toothpick out of the glass. The skewered cherry is dark in colour and very appealing. L studies it carefully from all angles before speaking again: “Have you read Fight Club? ‘If this is your first night, you have to fight’?”

“I, uh, I’ve seen the movie.”

“That’s fine, too. Well, the same rule applies here. If this is your first night, you have to take part in the late-night show.”

 In one smooth movement, L’s tongue darts out of his mouth to envelop the cherry, flicking over its skin. L caresses the stone fruit with all the gentleness in the world, deliberately slow.

Light swallows thickly, finding it both obscene and fascinating. His guts are practically sizzling with a sudden onslaught of inappropriate fantasies. Is this how L normally behaves around people he’s only just met?

Why is this so hot, for Christ’s sake?

Amused, L watches Light out of the corner of his eye. As expected, Light is transfixed by that little performance, even though the inability to look away may well be because he’s shocked at L’s lasciviousness.

For a brief moment, L stops to wink at Light, the glint in his eyes a tell-tale sign that he’s pleased with himself.

That little bastard.

Light’s attempt to hide his arousal is fruitless. He wants to believe he’s not affected by L’s lewd behaviour, but the opposite is true. It’s easy to picture that pink tongue elsewhere; swirling around Light’s own, licking and teasing Light’s skin, leaving a wet trail as it maps the underside of Light’s cock…

Get a grip on yourself, for God’s sake!

Light blinks rapidly, his mortification materializing into a frantic whisper: “What are you doing?!”

“Making you aroused, by the looks of it.” L chuckles. That damned voice of his wraps an invisible hand around Light’s twitching cock.

Light was tired before, but he’s wide awake now.

Without missing a beat, L continues: “Do you like spanking?”

This time, Light’s eyes widen with pure terror. The idea makes him wince, and he shakes his head vehemently.

Surely, he misheard, right? L can’t possibly be asking him something so private. What happened to ‘Where are you from’ and ‘What’s your favourite food’? You know, a harmless chit-chat?

Spanking. Ugh, Christ on a stick!

“Understood,” L’s voice is comforting. “What about bondage?”

Come the fuck ON!

Light feels like he’s about to choke. He wants to run away, but his legs are suddenly too heavy. He can’t even take one measly step back.

Amber eyes full of hopelessness, he fumbles for words: “Um, I’ve never… I only saw a video once. Out of curiosity. But that’s it.”

God, this isn’t happening.

Why do you want to know this?

Why am I even talking to you?

To be fair, it’s not like Light has never given this a thought. But he has certainly never imagined himself on the receiving end of any such activity.

That would be… Shameful.

L gives the spit-shine cherry one last caress before looking directly at Light with a disarming smile: “I see. You’re fairly new to this, eh?”

- - - - -

There’s no point in denying it; L loves newbies. Experienced subs are great, but someone who’s only just learning how to give up control, someone who’s eager to explore their limits and lets themselves be guided… Well, let’s just say that L will definitely enjoy watching Light tonight.

- - - - -

It’s then that Light’s mask cracks a little. Up until now, he managed to look appalled rather than scared, but L gave him… Ideas. And Light has always had a very vivid imagination.

Plus, he didn’t lie. He did see a video. Intricate knots, reddened skin… It was all in there. And it made him nauseous. He didn’t close the tab right away, which would have been the right thing to do, and now, he’s reminded of the pained wails and moans that nearly made him throw up dinner back then.

“Light? You’re still with me?”

L’s voice guides him out of the labyrinth of memories. Light blinks, trying to shake off his momentary uneasiness.

“… Uh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“Would you let me try something?” L asks tentatively.

“… Yeah?”

Still as a statue and with no idea what to expect, Light waits. The skewered cherry touches his bottom lip, and Light’s eyes widen. L definitely caught him off guard.

Nonchalantly, L taps Light’s lips with the piece of fruit: “Open your mouth.”

That simple command flips a switch in Light’s brain, making everything else irrelevant. The rest of the club is plunged into darkness, enhancing the whiteness of L’s shirt. The music is drowned out by Light’s heartbeat. Light’s body tenses in anticipation, suddenly a lot more sensitive. The whole world narrows down to L.

Apparently, it takes Light a little too long to act, because L clicks his tongue: “Come on, Light. Be a good boy for me and open your mouth.”

Light parts his lips, mesmerized, and lets L feed him the fruit. It’s wet with L’s spit, heavier than it ought to be; the weight of expectations that also reflects in L’s eyes.

“Thaaat’s it,” L drawls, slowly rolling the toothpick over Light’s tongue a few times, then pushing it a bit deeper, as if he wanted to test the waters and see if Light would start gagging. Light breathes through his nose, blinking rapidly.

“I wonder if you’d enjoy being collared,” L muses, more to himself. Light’s answer is a strained, questioning whimper.                      

The thought of wearing a collar is… Not entirely unpleasant. Which nearly makes Light faint, because he’s not a dog, Jesus! Where did this idea even come from?!

Smiling, L gives him another order: “Go ahead, eat your treat. Don’t worry, it’s stoned.”

Light is gripping his glass so tightly he worries it might shatter. Forcing himself to appear calm, he clamps his lips around the toothpick and pulls. His teeth scrape the wooden surface, sinking into the sweet pulp.

With his mouth is full of flavourful bits, Light dutifully chews and swallows. Now that the tanginess of his Moscow-less mule has been overpowered by the sweet taste of fruit, he feels a little better. At least he doesn’t have to ask Ryuk for a piece of chewing gum – that miscreant would likely make Light pay for it.

“So,” L says, treading carefully, “Collars? Yes or no?”

And just like that, the cherry suddenly weights a ton, making Light’s stomach drop to his knees.

Light laughs weakly, no longer able to keep his nerves at bay. “I… I don’t know… Maybe?”

“A soft limit, then?”

There’s a pause, during which Light’s eyes dart around the room.

Where’s Ryuk when you need him?!  

Shagging some pretty blond student in the men’s room, probably.

At long last, Light accepts that no help will come.

“What is this about, L?” He asks quietly, playing with the buckle of Ryuk’s belt. The edges of the brass skull dig into his skin.

L is watching him with raised eyebrows, his own drink forgotten.

Nearly every newcomer is apprehensive at first. That’s normal (expected, even), and it’s exactly what L or Mello or Linda are here for. They offer support and help each new sub figure out what their initiation rite could look like (that is, if the newbies don’t have their own Doms).

But Light is not just apprehensive – he’s scared. He may have come here willingly, but he had no idea what to expect, and he certainly didn’t sign up for a scene.

Inwardly, L curses.

Not only is Ryuk a big-mouthed bastard with a big dick, but he also has a twisted sense of humour. By the looks of it, he led an oblivious, skittish colt out into the fields, expecting him to pull the plough without as much as showing him the harness first.

L sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ryuk didn’t tell you.”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

“This is a BDSM club, Light. Take a guess what’s behind those drapes.”

Light’s eyes flicker towards the so-called “play space”. Spanking, bondage, collars. Is that what goes on in there? Does that mean Light should suffer through spanking to please the audience?

Fuck.

One look at L’s face and Light knows this isn’t a joke, no matter how much he wants it to be.

Uneasiness makes his heart leap into his throat.

“I… Fuck, I’m sorry…” He trails off, feeling pathetic. How he wants to strangle Ryuk with that goddamned belt right now! He should have stayed at the dorm. He knew it all along. Damn his moment of weakness!  

But…

Buried deep within him is a shy desire to explore, to find out, to learn. Light can’t help it; it’s not every day you set foot into a place like this. And he’s already spent the entire evening here! Leaving now would be like giving up a race mere meters before the finishing line.

And so, when L asks him if he wishes to leave, Light shakes his head. L then offers to show him around, and Light accepts. As weird as it may sound, he trusts L. There’s just something about his new… Friend? Acquaintance? That makes him feel safe.

L leads the way. They set down their glasses on the marble bar counter as they walk past it. A blonde woman sitting on one of the bar stools zeroes in on Light’s wristband, then sends Light a coquettish wink. Light can practically feel his faked confidence burning to a cinder when he takes in her red lipstick and her long acrylic nails. She’s on a hunt, and he’d better stick to L, lest he ends up in her claws.

On campus, Light is something of a deity, well-known and well-liked. Here, he is a prey. A blind tiger cub dependent on its mother. A mighty goshawk with clipped wings.

Out of habit, he checks his wristwatch again.

“Hey, L… It’s not 10pm yet.”

It will be in a minute, but still.

In answer to that, L raises his left hand. The black wristband hangs loosely around his bony wrist and L spares it a proud glance: “It’s okay. This permits us to go there any time of day.”

Ah, I see. All animals are equal, eh?

A few more meters, then L is pulling back one of the drapes, motioning for Light to enter.

Briefly, Light hesitates. But he won’t back out at the last minute.

And so, he finds himself surrounded with red cushioning and black leather. The colour combination looks sinister, and Light is careful not to touch anything.

L, on the other hand, pats each item lovingly, explaining its purpose and usage.

The spanking bench is sure to give Light nightmares. He keeps his distance from a big wooden X-frame (which, as he learns, is called St. Andrew’s cross) and his stomach flips at the sight of an actual cage.

It’s not much of a consolation to see a four-poster bed amidst all this.

Panelled room partitions divide the vast space into segments, bringing a resemblance of privacy. Their floral patterns remind Light of Alphonse Mucha’s paintings. It’s perhaps the only nice thing to look at in this torture chamber.

L talks about the club, casually mentioning that he’s one of the owners.

“That’s nice,” L mumbles feebly.

Your parents must be proud of you.

Next, L opens a massive, hand-carved wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. Light, white as a sheet, gapes at rows of toys and equipment that would put most sex shops to shame.

There are handcuffs, colourful ropes and restraints, blindfolds – “You can have a lot of fun with these,” L muses – and many other things. Some of them Light can’t even name.

It seems improbable that people use these for fun, but Light remains silent, wincing at the sight of whips and floggers. Not his cup of tea for sure.

As if on cue, L speaks again, his tone soothing: “We’ve already established that you don’t want these anywhere near your body, which is absolutely fine.” He brushes the handle of a black riding crop with his fingers. “There are other ways of pleasuring you, just like there are other ways of disciplining if you misbehave.”

Light doesn’t ask, and L takes it as a sign to move on to other items.

It seems to go on forever. L shows Light a collection of anal beads, cock rings and butt plugs (some of which have detachable faux fur tails, for crying out loud). There’s also something L calls a spreader bar.

Long before they get to gags and harnesses, Light thinks he might pass out.

Luckily, L is perceptive. He closes the doors of the cabinet with a quiet thud and ushers Light onward. There’s another room, separated from the rest of the play space by a solid wall instead of just partitions, and bathed in a dim blue light.

“Welcome to the aftercare room,” L says.

Here, Light finally feels like he can breathe again. The floor is carpeted and there is no bizarre furniture, just cosy couches and low coffee tables, with salt lamps and throw blankets neatly arranged on them.

Unlike the room intended for playing, this one has walls painted cobalt blue, which adds to the soothing effect. There’s also an electric fireplace. Hypnotised by the flames, Light momentarily forgets L is there with him, and startles when the man speaks again.

“This concludes our tour. I’m sure it’s a lot to take in, so feel free to relax here a bit. Sit down, lie down… I can get you a blanket and something to drink, if you want?”

Even though a glass of water sounds like a good idea, Light shakes his head. He plops down onto the nearest couch, feeling exhausted.

Are his hands shaking?

Yes, they definitely are.

Light digs his fingers into the plush cushioning to hide it. “So, this is your hobby? Suspending people from the ceiling? Flogging them?”

“At this point, it’s more of a lifestyle,” L kicks off his dirty shoes and makes himself comfortable on the same couch. He sits close, radiating heat, and Light has to fight the urge to press against him. His own body feels like it has just been pulled out of freezing water.

Light swallows. “I don’t know if I’m horrified or amazed.”

The loud thumping of his heart must be heard all the way back to the dancefloor.

Has Ryuk registered that Light is gone?

L rests the pad of his thumb against his lips. “Can I speak plainly with you?”

“Uh, sure.”

“It’s clear that despite having the potential to be a great sub, you haven’t fully eased into this yet.”

Light stiffens, confusion written all over his face.

What are you talking about? What potential?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” L continues, “What have you and Ryuk done so far?”

The room spins. Light’s heart stumbles, and he’s this close to screaming.

“We’re not together!” He rushes to say. Honestly, the idea of dating Ryuk is both ridiculous and horrifying. “We’ve never… We’re just friends, okay? Maybe not even that, I don’t know! If Ryuk told you anything else, he’s a fucking liar!”

Completely unfazed by the sudden outburst, L studies Light for what feels like eternity, his right thumb wedged between his teeth.

“My apologies,” he finally murmurs. “I assumed… Never mind. What are you into, then?”

“Nothing!” Light’s voice would have struck like a whip – had it not been so shaky and high-pitched at the moment. “I mean, after today, I’m pretty sure I’m vanilla. I have literally zero interest in being anyone’s sub.”

It’s fundamentally true. From what Light has just seen, being a sub means enduring public humiliation – and for what? So that you can go home with a sore butt? Who on Earth could be interested in something like that?

Light hugs himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

Maybe this is his cue to leave? It’s not like there’s anything left to say.

Time to find Ryuk, get home, and forget about this night.

Thankfully, Light’s shift at Bookworm’s Nook starts at nine tomorrow, so he won’t have time to dwell on this.

And if Ryuk ever brings it up again, I’ll shove the belt down his throat.

Something heavy is draped over Light’s shoulders, momentarily startling him. He’s got half a mind to bolt, but L holds him gently down by the shoulders, shushing him like one would a panicking child – “Easy now, it’s all good,” – letting Light realize it’s just a blanket; mint green, knitted, soft. L must have fetched in while Light was lost in thoughts.

With a comforting smile, L allows one of his hands to linger, drawing circles with his thumb.

“We’ll stay here as long as you need, Light. Just relax.”

“Yeah, well…”

That’s easier said than done.

But the blanket helps, and strangely enough, so does L’s close proximity. Right now, even with his abysmal posture, L resembles a dutiful sentry, guarding the newfound peace and quiet that settles over them, watching out for Light – who can follow L’s advice and relax.

It doesn’t take long for Light’s tremors to subside. As he gets warmer, the tension leaves his body altogether.

“Can I ask you something?” L’s voice is laced with genuine curiosity.

“Shoot.”

“How much do you know about BDSM? And I mean real knowledge, not the impression you can get from porn.”

Again, Light is faced with a choice: he can lie to save his face (he has never not known an answer to a question, after all), or he can admit that he doesn’t know the first thing about it.

The first option is far more appealing, but hazardous. Something tells Light that L wouldn’t forgive him for lying, and that’d be a pity. Light wants to be in L’s good books more than anything, though he has no idea why.

He can feel the weight of L’s gaze on himself, and his throat tightens.

“I know for a fact that I’m not a submissive,” he says slowly, with as much confidence as he can muster… Only for L to shatter it the next second.

“You very much are. Less than ten minutes ago, you did so well, following my orders to a tee. And it made you feel good, that much was obvious.”

Light hesitates, gritting his teeth with enough force to make his jaws hurt.

With you, it somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But if you were to use whips… Or ropes…

His body betrays him again, and with shame curdling in his stomach, Light grips the blanket tighter.

Twenty-two years of indoctrination are bound to leave a mark. Thanks to Soichiro Yagami’s lectures, Light now knows that a real man must be in charge at all times. Otherwise, he’s as good as dead.

“You never amount to anything if you let other people dictate your fate.”

In other words, being submissive is… Unacceptable.

Unforgivable, even.

To this day, Soichiro Yagami straight out refuses to believe that Light – his only son, his pride and joy – is attracted to both sexes. What would he think if he found out that Light also finds pleasure in doing other peoples’ bidding?

Would he eventually accept it?  

The short answer is ‘no’.

Which is why Light denies L’s words with all his might, for as long as he can – until he has no choice but to lower his head in defeat.

He’ll never be the man his father wants him to be. And it hurts, having to admit that to himself. Sure, he’s always known, deep down, but coming to terms with it is another matter altogether.

His inner turmoil is not lost on L.

“Light, it’s okay. It’s perfectly normal for men to be submissive.”

Easy for you to say, when you’re obviously anything but.

“I don’t even know what it entails!” Light hates himself for how whiny he sounds. How desperate he feels.

“Well, would you like to know?”

A heartbeat of silence.

Then:

“Yes? I think.”

Enviably calm, L starts explaining. His voice loses the authoritative edge; all that’s left is smooth silk and honey. Light listens, hands fidgeting in his lap, his defeated expression slowly turning into one of disbelief.

It all sounds too good to be true, if you ask me.

Light clears his throat: “What about all those… Toys you’ve shown me?”

“You say ‘toys’ like it’s an expletive.” L is quick to remark, grinning, the pad of his thumb pressed against his incisors.

“That’s beside the point, isn’t it?”

“You’re right. Well then, those toys are for your pleasure. Simple as that.”

“Please. As if having my ass stuffed full of plastic could be pleasurable.”

Some of those things were huge. The fact that people associate them with pleasure is… Disturbing.

“You’ve never tried this before,” L deduces – with absolute certainty that makes Light’s guts quake. Under the man’s observant gaze, Light feels himself shrinking, feeling exposed, his skin peeled off and his innermost fears and desires laid out.

The patterned carpet is suddenly the most interesting thing Light has ever seen in his life. He remains silent, smoothing his face out into an impassive mask; a feat that takes considerable effort.

Don’t say anything.

Intrigued, L sinks his teeth into the calloused skin of his thumb, just enough to leave an imprint. Light is such a delicious mystery; on the one hand, he seems to regard the whips and leashes as an affront to his pristine appearance. On the other hand, he’s hanging on L’s lips, eagerly gulping down everything L tells him about submitting and obedience.

“It could also be that you have tried it and got hurt in the process. If that were the case, your reaction would be understandable. But your body language tells me it’s the former.”

Submissive or not, Light scowls, straightening up: “Fine. I’ve never done it. Will you put me in the pillory for that?”

“Not for that, no.”

Glad to hear it.

“What if I don’t even want to try?”

“Then I’ll ask you again: what are you into? What do you want to try?”

“How should I know? I’ve never done anything!”

The words hang between them, making L freeze.

Light curses himself, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.

“Nothing at all?” L asks to confirm, and for the first time, he sounds unsure. Shocked, even.

“Well… A kiss here and there,” Light shuffles his feet as his mind conjures the face of Mikami Teru – his first romantic interest. He had a bearded dragon as a pet, and wore glasses he believed enhanced his nerdy charm.

He and Light went on four dates in total. On the fourth one, Mikami’s touches suddenly grew bolder – inappropriate for a date spent in public, and definitely unwelcome. When he started talking about all the things he wanted to do to Light later in the evening… Let’s just say that despite being a people pleaser through and through, Light had to draw the line somewhere.

It’s of no importance now.  And it’s certainly not something Light wants to remember. He started avoiding Mikami when the man wrote him a Haiku poem, in which he compared Light’s cock to a sap-weeping tree trunk.

After Mikami, there were others; Misa Amane, who looked up to Light, but was simply too demanding – her list of what she expected from a partner was so long that Light straight out told her it would take ten people to satiate her every need.

Predictably, she got mad at him and broke things off. Last Light heard, she had found herself an older woman.

Next, he met a cute barista named Touta Matsuda. A nice lad. Would have gotten along great with Light’s mother, of that Light was sure. However…

He was into humiliation.

“Like, super turned on by it”, he once said, with a bashful smile and a blush spreading down his neck. To this day, Light remembers it vividly. That rosy colour suited him, and in contrast with Mikami’s deranged fantasies, it sounded almost innocent.

But Light couldn’t bring himself to do it. Telling Touta that he was a failure and a waste of Light’s time was just wrong. Disgraceful. Like kicking a puppy.

And that was that.

Light realizes he’s spaced out – again. He bites his lip, glancing at L who hasn’t moved an inch this whole time.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” L chuckles bitterly. “This is Ryuk to you.”

“It’s not his fault. I wanted to come here.”

“Curious, were you?”

Light shrugs: “I thought this was just a normal club.”

“Hm. And now that you know it isn’t… Do you regret coming here?”

Do I?

Light has to think about it. An hour ago, his answer would have been “Yes, definitely”. Now, he’s not so sure. Despite everything he’s seen, he doesn’t want to leave. Or better – he doesn’t want to say goodbye to L just yet.

Sure, he remembers all too well how uncomfortable he felt when faced with the prospect of being spanked. Just like he remembers how his stomach twisted when he saw all those... Instruments.

Still…

“Does it always have to involve pain?” Light asks.

It seems like it does, but surely, not everyone thirsts after violence...?

L’s answer confirms it: “Not unless you are a masochist.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, I can tell,” The smile L gives him is bright and sincere. Light watches him unfold from his cramped-up position, and feels a stab of sadness close to his heart. This is their goodbye, then, by the looks of it.

L pulls a face when he slips into his muddy sneakers.

“Well, Light. It’s been a pleasure. Let me see you out.”

“Wait!” Light jumps to his feet, a voice in his head telling him that it’s now or never: “You’re a dominant, right?”

L’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but he nods.

Before Light can change his mind, the words leave his mouth on their own accord: “I want to submit to you.”

Too straightforward? Probably.

Impulsive? Definitely.

But Light has made up his mind. He won’t leave until L agrees to meet him again.

Before L can blink away his surprise, Light continues: “I’m a quick learner. And I won’t let you down, promise. Just tell me what to do.”

L sighs: “Light, that’s not how it works…”

“Give me a chance. Please. That’s all I’m asking. You yourself said I’ve got potential.”

“You’re fighting dirty.”

“Please, L.”

Light holds his breath, pleading not only with words but with his puppy dog eyes as well.

Hard to say what does the trick in the end. But after a heartbeat of silence, L reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, taking out a piece of paper and a stubby pencil.

A former Scout, probably. ‘Always prepared’ – isn’t that their motto? Or is it ‘Be prepared’?

“Here,” L hands both items to Light. “Why don’t you write me your email address, so that I can send you some materials? Chew on them for as long as you need to, then we can talk. No questions are off limits, okay? I’ll be more than happy to answer them all.”

Close to feeling like he’s entered some kind of a lucid dream, Light takes the scrap of paper. A question burns at the tip of his tongue.

“I’m not just signing up for lectures, right? We will, uh, do what you usually do with your subs?”

L bursts out laughing, and for some reason, the hearty sound fills Light with warmth.

“Slow down a bit. You’ve yet to embrace the fact that you are a submissive, and go over the things I’ll send you. Once you do, we can talk about expectations, limits and desires, and find out if we’re compatible. Then, and only then, can we sign a contract.”

“What contract?”

“A mutual agreement that will summarize what we deem acceptable and for how long.”

“Ah. Of course.”

There’s so much Light doesn’t know yet. But if he’s to learn, then he wants L to be his teacher. Taking a deep breath, he quickly scribbles his email address down.

- - - - -

In the days that follow, Light immerses himself in the topic of BDSM, doing little else beside that. He often stays up late. Sometimes, he even forgets to eat dinner.

The materials L sent him are engaging and comprehensive, and soon, Light thinks he is quite well versed in his new interest.

Okay, maybe well versed is pushing it. But you know. Knowledge is power, and it’s safe to say Light feels very powerful.

First, there are the basics; what each of the four letters stands for, what it really means to be a submissive – rather than letting the dominant partner do as they please, you voluntarily give them the power to do things you both enjoy and agree upon.

What’s more – you can always stop the dom if it gets too much. That’s why you need a safe word.

There are also the soft and hard limits – things you’d consider doing and things you’d never do – the traffic light system to let your partner know if you’re doing alright or reaching your limit… All easily understandable.

It’s the checklist of activities – a nine-pages long, detailed questionnaire – that poses a challenge. It includes terms Light has never heard before, as well as kinks that would make his younger self deeply unsettled.

Breath control. Double penetration. Fisting.

He’s supposed to rate their appeal (yes, maybe – soft limit, no – hard limit), and mark his experience with each of them (never tried, done it a few times, done it many times).

Frankly, the latter doesn’t take long.

Blindfolds – yes. Innocent enough. Never tried.

Clamps – maybe? Never tried.

On second thought, it probably hurts a lot. So, hard limit.

Golden showers – hell no. Hard limit. Hard limit! Never tried.

Sounding – uhh… No. Just no. Hard limit. Never tried.

In the end, Light sets it aside, feeling pathetic. Surely, he needs to say yes to more than just one thing, right? Otherwise, L can’t really do a scene with him, can he? He requested that Light send it back to him once it’s filled out, and if he sees this, he’ll straight up think Light isn’t taking it seriously.

Light makes himself a cup of tea and starts reading about aftercare kits.

- - - - -

Before he knows it, it’s Friday again, he’s learning the difference between sub space and sub drop, and Ryuk is getting ready to go to The Gilded Den – this time by himself, only.

Out of curiosity (and after he makes sure Ryuk is busy styling his mane in the bathroom) Light googles BDSM furniture – and gapes at the prices. Just the spanking bench alone is over £2000. He finds the exact one he saw in The Gilded Den; It’s even more expensive (real leather is pricey), and its description makes it sound like it’s the best thing since sliced bread.

Anxiety carves a deep hole in Light’s stomach.

L said this isn’t necessary. That a scene doesn’t have to involve pain.

But would he be interested in something… Less intimidating?

This is what he meant when he said we have to be compatible.

What if we aren’t – precisely for this reason?

“Ah, someone did their homework.”

Light startles, swiftly closing the tab. So much for making sure his research won’t be disturbed. He feels like a teenager whose parents caught him smoking. Or worse.

Ryuk stands behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “Fledgling, you are full of surprises. One visit to the nest of corruption, and you’re already envisioning yourself at a dom’s mercy?”

“It’s not like that!” Cheeks red with embarrassment, Light opts to turn off the computer. A stroll outside sounds like a good idea right now. He needs fresh air – it feels like forever since he last went for a walk. They’re running out of instant noodles, too. Most importantly, the room is too small for the two of them when Ryuk is in the mood.

Getting up and snatching a jacket from the peg by the door, Light glares at his roommate one last time: “Am I not allowed to browse the internet, or what?”

Ryuk’s infectious belly laugh fills the room. The tips of Light’s ears burn.

“Cut the crap, birdie. I saw the way you look at L, all starry-eyed and shit.”

“That’s not true.”

“You were adorable, I swear on my mother,” Ryuk clasps his hands together, fluttering his eyelashes. “For real, though, I think you two might be ideal for each other.”

“How so?” A part of Light itches to be out of the door. The other part, however, waits expectantly.

That small flame of hope grows into a pyre when Ryuk snickers: “L is the softest Dom you’ll ever meet, and you are a porcelain doll that needs to be pampered. You wouldn’t survive a day with me as your Dom. But you can spend years being L’s good little slut.”

Light hides his blushing face into the crook of his neck, pretending to be taken aback by a sudden fit of cough. He doesn’t like the word “slut”, but a dirty mouth is Ryuk’s hallmark, just like pierced ears and dyed hair. You get used to it after a few weeks.

“You could have told me, you know,” Light shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “About the club. About what goes on in there.”

Predictably, Ryuk waves it off. “Would you have believed me if I told you?”

Probably not.

“… I would’ve had an idea what to expect.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Light sighs, a shadow of a fond smile gracing his features for a brief second. They may not be best friends, but it’s thanks to Ryuk that Light got to know L in the first place.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Whatever you say, L’s slut.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks later, Light meets L for dinner at a place he’s never heard of. Thankfully, it’s easy to find; two life-size bronze lion statues flank the entrance, resting on pedestals, looking like they’re about to growl at Light if he gets cold feet.

The interior isn’t any less impressive, with crystal chandeliers and marble pillars.

Who would’ve thought L relishes in luxury?

Light has always considered art nouveau to be too pompous, suitable only for chateaux back in the day when you needed to impress someone important. But as he sits down, he has to admit that his eyes can’t get enough of all those ornate details and tasteful colour palette. 

“I hope you’re hungry.” L smiles at him from across the table.

“Starving.”

It’s true; too nervous to eat, Light hasn’t had anything since breakfast. So, despite the sensitive topics they are about to discuss, Light is ready to devour whatever L recommends.

To his surprise, L blushes, admitting he always orders the same thing, and that’s dessert. He doesn’t even open his menu.

“But I’ve heard the roasted quail is phenomenal,” he adds. “Or the truffle gnocchi, if you’re a vegetarian. Are you?”

“No. But I’ll try it.”

Shortly after, a waitress approaches them, pen and notepad at the ready. Light recognizes her immediately – it’s the same blonde woman who eyed him at the club.

Just what are the odds, eh?

Her gaze loses the predatory glint when she takes notice of L. She writes down Light’s order – a glass of water and the truffle gnocchi – and turns to L with a knowing smile: “The usual, I presume?”

L beams at her, and she nods, not even writing his order down. Light has a feeling they’ve known each other for a long time, and jealousy takes root in his belly.

Once the woman is out of earshot, he asks L about her, annoyance seeping into his voice, even though he’s trying his best to hide it. He half expects L to say she used to be his sub. Or an ex-girlfriend.

Instead, he learns that Halle is L’s sister.

Well, step-sister.

One of nine adoptive siblings L grew up with in Winchester.

The more you know…

Enraptured, Light listens to L sharing funny stories from his childhood. It’s easy to pretend they are just two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, and are simply catching up. Halle brings them their drinks, then it’s Light’s turn to talk. L seems especially interested in Light’s upbringing. The bit about Light’s father makes him straighten up.

“I figured your family would have something to do with how you perceive submission,” L muses, taking a sip of his tea. His grey eyes are full of compassion.

“Still, you’re here, so I suppose you haven’t changed your mind.”

“I haven’t,” Light swallows around the lump of nervousness that clings to his throat, “I meant it when I said I want to be your sub.”

By the looks of it, his decision pleases L to no end.

Or maybe, Light is just projecting.

L leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth.

“Very well. I went over your checklist. If I remember correctly, you said yes to blindfolds, butt plugs, fellatio, hair pulling, handcuffs, ice cubes, nipple play, and orgasm control.”

Impeccable memory.

 “Collars, gags, orgasm denial, rimming, and spreader bars were your soft limits.”

Light hums in agreement. Completing the list wasn’t easy. He kept coming back to it, picturing himself in restraints, immobilized. On his knees, with L’s cock all the way down his throat. With his chest covered in hot wax. And so on.

Some of those fantasies made him beyond uncomfortable.

Be that as it may, Light now feels the need to apologize; he’s probably the most boring sub under the sun.

His “sorry” is barely audible. Too ashamed to look L in the eye, Light stares at the ornate tablecloth instead.

Thistles and goldfinches return his gaze, silently pitying him. That is, until L clears his throat.

“Light, look at me.”

While not exactly an order, it makes Light obey. L rewards him with a smile before continuing:

“First of all, never apologize for having limits. The purpose of that checklist is to ensure your safety. We’ll only engage in activities you’re comfortable doing. Second, agreeing to every single thing listed there doesn’t make you a good sub. Remember that. And third, for someone who’s new to this, you said yes to an awful lot of things. I’m impressed, honestly.”

“Uh, thank you?”

To avoid further embarrassment, Light asks a question of his own: “I guess your… Repertoire is broader than mine?”

“Well, yes, although it doesn’t change anything. I’ve only a few hard limits – scat, torture, anything that has to do with permanent marking.”

“Right.”

Anxiety blooms in Light’s chest, dreadfully heavy, robbing him of breath as it expands and crushes his lungs.

Does that mean he and L are not compatible? Would L prefer a sub that’s more adventurous?

“We’ll start slow, as I would with any new sub,” L informs him, his voice kind and soothing, “These things take time. Given you’ve never had sex before, you might need a while to get accustomed to even being naked around me.”

“Uhm.”

“That being said, I won’t be lenient just because you’re new to this. I’m the one in charge during a scene, and if you defy me, I will punish you.”

“Of course. I understand the dynamics.”

L nods, stirring his tea. “Good. You made it abundantly clear that you don’t like pain, so there won’t be any. And we’ll always talk about what you did wrong and what your punishment will be, okay?”

“Okay.” Light feels more at ease now. Rules – simple and clearly stated – help him navigate through life. If he’s good, he’ll be rewarded. If he’s bad…

No. He won’t be bad. He’s never been bad in his life.

“So far so good?”

“Yep.”

“Moving on, then. Have you thought of a safe word?”

“Kira.” Light answers immediately.

“Like the Japanese mass murderer? From five years ago?”

“My father’s nightmare, yes. It seemed apt.”

“Understood. Kira it is, then.”

Just then, Halle arrives with their food, and L lets Light eat in silence for a while while enjoying a chocolate cake himself. He notes with relief that, unlike last time, Light doesn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable – which is just as well, because there are still things they need to discuss.

Between bites, L briefly wonders – with no small amount of trepidation – if he didn’t make a mistake. Being a Dom to an inexperienced sub is one thing. (Something he excels at, if he dares say so himself.) Being a Dom to a virgin, on the other hand… L doesn’t know anyone who has done that.

Also, Light subtly despises his submissive self, which doesn’t exactly help things.

But maybe, just maybe, L can help him heal.

Setting the fork aside, L clears his throat: “Ready to continue?”

Light’s plate is still half-full. Nonetheless, Light nods, ever-eager to please, giving L a small smile. And so, they pick up where they left off.

Some of the questions L asks makes Light blush, but he answers all of them without hesitation. Yes, L can touch him anywhere. No, Light doesn’t have any allergies, asthma, or diabetes. Yes, he’s more than fine with calling L “Sir”.

They also talk about the most suitable place for their scenes, ultimately deciding on L’s house. Unlike Light, L lives alone, and hotel rooms can’t compete with the cosiness of someone’s home. Light has a hunch he’ll feel at ease in L’s bedroom; able to let himself go.

By the time they get around to discussing aftercare, Light’s plate is empty and L is on his second tea, Light’s belly is full and his head feels fuzzy.

Afraid other guests might hear him – as if they didn’t have anything better to do in this grand place than eavesdrop – Light lowers his voice to a whisper when he asks about penetrative sex. He couldn’t make it sound more clinical if he tried, but he’s curious whether L wants to include it in their scenes.

Surprise flashes through L’s eyes: “Do you want us to?”

Light has to think about it for a moment. It’s not that he doesn’t want to – he’s sure L would take care of him, make him feel good. L’s lips on his, their legs entangled, L unabashedly spilling inside Light… The mere thought of it is enough to make Light’s guts tingle. But what if Light ruins it somehow?

In the end, he shakes his head – “I don’t think I’m ready for it just yet.” – and L nods, understanding and respectful: “There’s your answer, then.”

Alright. Good. Thank you.

“Fingers are okay,” Light rushes to assure L.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

Not long after that, L asks for the bill.

Before they say goodbye, L pulls out a small gift box from his backpack.

“Open it at home,” he instructs Light. “Let me know how you like it.”

“But… I didn’t get you anything,” Light stutters, pale as a sheet. Is this some rule he hasn’t read about? Do subs commonly receive gifts from their Doms? Should it not be the other way around?

L presses a finger to Light’s lips, effectively cutting off further rambling.

“Hush, darling. You’re giving me your trust. Just because you can’t wrap it doesn’t make it any less valuable. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

Light thanks him, holding the box close to his chest. He can’t wait to see what’s inside.

- - - - -

Well.

It’s a butt plug.

L gave him a frigging butt plug.

Supposedly the smallest one on the market. A simply looking, dark blue silicone toy shaped like a teardrop, with a flared base.

By far the strangest gift Light has ever received.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I suppose.

Light sits down on his bed to type a message, stealing glances at his new toy in the process.

Thank you, Sir. I like the colour.

There’s no way Light is going to admit he feels a little intimidated. The idea of having this up his arse creates a lump in his throat that makes it difficult to breathe.

Maybe I’ll suffocate before I have the chance to use it.

A chime of L’s response snaps him out of his spiralling thoughts.

Use your fingers first. And lube – LOTS of it. Water-based, preferably. Let me know how it goes.

Ten seconds later, there’s another message:

You’re welcome, by the way. I’m glad you like it.

Still a bit scared, but also encouraged by the idea of reporting his progress to L, Light wakes up the next day to an empty room. Ryuk’s shift at a nearby café started an hour ago, so Light has plenty of time to explore.

Okay, so… Lube.

He doesn’t have any.

Ryuk, on the other hand…

A quick inspection of his roommate’s bedside table sees Light with a nearly full bottle of lubricant. Water-based, like L suggested (thank God).

First things first.

Light showers. Clips his nails. Drenches his hands in sanitizer.

On the bed, he takes a few deep, steadying breaths. A mixture of giddiness and anxiety ripples through him when he reaches for the lube. The plug sits atop a stack of textbooks like a travel-sized monument to Light’s transformation into the best sub L has ever had.

With a dollop of lube on his fingers, L gets on all fours, closes his eyes and presses the tip of his index finger to his hole.

The cold touch makes him acutely aware of one important detail: he’s on his own. Leaderless. Abandoned.

Something vital is missing.

No, not something. Someone.

Naked and doubtful, Light bites his lip, unsure how to proceed. To buy himself some time, he smears more lube around his hole, tapping the rim, telling himself it’s part of the preparation.

He’s surprised to realize it feels good. It tingles and it makes his body shiver with delicious anticipation. Maybe he can do this.

It’s not rocket science, for Christ’s sake. Just push the finger in.

Bracing himself, Light tries to do just that. The tip of his index finger slips in, and the feeling is strange and laughable and mortifying.

Light can’t seem to push any deeper without meeting resistance; he’s too tense, and it hurts, and he’s probably a lost cause and should give up. His mind refuses to encourage him further, barred by the belief that nothing should ever go up his ass, lest his dad disowns him.

What would Ryuk say?

Ridiculous as that idea is, making Light grimace and huff, it does take his mind off the task at hand, allowing for a short respite.

“Are you sure you don’t have a hymen, fledgling?”

Yeah, that sounds like him.

And then…

“Just relax. It’s all good.”

L’s voice in his mind, calm and soothing. The answer to Light’s struggles.

Slowly, Light pulls the tip of his finger out, wiping it into a tissue. Before he dials L’s number, he takes a deep breath. His guts burn with embarrassment and his hands shake a little, but there’s no way around it – he needs to hear L’s voice. Even at the cost of being seen as needy.

L picks up on the third ring.

“Light?”

“I can’t do it.” Light hates how weak he sounds – as if he was close to tears, which he isn’t (not yet, anyway), and ready to give up (which he might be).

Christ, since when is his voice so frail, so pitiful?

“Can’t do what, love?”

Upon hearing the nickname, Light lets out a self-deprecating laugh. Does he deserve to be called that? He failed. If he can’t even complete this simple task, what will he do later, when the time comes to try something more strenuous? He’s officially L’s sub – they’ve signed the contract – but he’s absolutely useless.

Hot, suffocating shame bubbles up his throat. He fell at the first hurdle.

It can’t possibly get any worse than this.

On the other side of the phone, L frowns, picking up on Light’s distress. His dog-eared copy of Jane Austen’s Emma is all but forgotten; he focuses solely on Light.

Light’s jaw aches from how hard he clenches it, but he listens, holding his breath. L won’t laugh at him, won’t judge him.

On the contrary – he calls Light brave.

That one word is his lifeline. Light holds onto it for dear life, using it like a shield against his doubts.

Eventually, after a few failed attempts, he finally hears himself stutter: “I can’t… Finger myself. I’ve tried, I swear, but I just… Can’t. I’m sorry.”

Spinning a bookmark around his fingers, L hums.

“Do you perhaps need a little guidance?”

Light’s answer is almost imperceptible – a shy, embarrassed “Yes, please,” – but immediate.

“Alright, honey. We’ll do this together. Where are you now?”

“On the bed.”

“Lying down?”

“No, I’m… I’m on all fours.”

“Oh? That must be a terrific sight. But you’ll be more comfortable on your back. Lie down for me.”

It’s as if L gave him a gentle but resolute push through the speaker. Light lets his body fall front first onto the mattress. The stiffness that caused his flanks to cramp is suddenly gone, the roaring in his mind finally quietening.

With a soft sigh, he rolls onto his back, thankful that he doesn’t have to think about anything. The relief he feels at the moment! Good God. He grips his phone tighter, gazing at a crack on the ceiling and waiting for further instructions.

“Bring your knees to your chest. And breathe.”

Light’s shaky exhales fill the room.

“Good boy,” L coos. “Just like that. Everything’s alright. You’ve got nothing to be scared of, I promise.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ready to make yourself feel good?”

“Yes,” Light whispers. It’s all he wants. It’s all he lives for right now.

L lowers his voice to a powerful, hypnotic murmur, and the things he says are so shameless, so provocative, that Light turns into a blushing mess in a matter of seconds. And with every tremor of suppressed delight that ripples through his body, he mewls, earning himself a praise.

“… Don’t push your finger inside. Just tease yourself a little.”

Dazed, Light listens, and God, is that different from what it felt like before. Now, his touch seems electrifying, sending little zaps of pleasure straight to his groin. His fingertips caress the pale skin, following invisible lines that navigate him ever closer to the rim. 

“Sensitive, huh?” L’s smile is palpable.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Ahh… Yes, Sir.”

Light’s thinking is clouded with bliss. His touches are no longer clumsy and hesitant. Rather, his fingers are precise, aiming to leave Light begging for more, able to break him apart.

When he feels like he’ll go mad from all the teasing, L allows him to slip a finger inside.

Light exhales, pushing in to the first knuckle.

Okay… Okay.

It’s not painful this time. Just strange. But bearable.

Still, Light tries not to think about it too much, instead focusing on L.

The process is slow, to say the least. But time becomes irrelevant the more Light eases into the sensation. Once he’s able to fully relax around a single finger, L tells him to move it gently, not just in and out, but also in semi-circles, crooking it, letting it caress the tight walls.

He doesn’t, however, allow Light to add another finger.

At first, Light doesn’t mind much, but after a few minutes, he hears himself protest. It’s finally starting to feel really nice. Only, the tip of his finger just barely brushes against his prostate, making him yearn for more stimulation. If he could just reach higher… Just a little bit…

“None of that. Pull your finger out,” L orders. His voice gains a steely edge when Light makes a displeased sound.

“Light. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Feeling betrayed, Light groans, but does as he’s told, slowly withdrawing his finger and wiping it off. The sudden emptiness has him grumbling dejectedly.

“You promised I’d feel good.”

“And I kept that promise. You felt so good that you nearly disobeyed me.”

Light can’t argue with that.

“It’s not a race, darling,” L reprimands him, but his tone is soft once again. “Ending on a good note is the best motivation. Give yourself time. Enjoy it.”

Afterwards, L waits for Light to recuperate, praising him the whole time, and Light’s chest swells with all kinds of emotions, from disbelief to joy to pride.

He could probably get used to this.

… Actually, scratch that; he could definitely get used to this.

- - - - -

When the time comes to ring the doorbell of L’s Tudor-style house three weeks later, Light feels ready. He’s been nothing but dutiful, practising whenever he had time to spare.

His backpack is full of things he may need during aftercare, and he hasn’t stopped smiling since he got off the bus.

L opens the front door, smiling and greeting Light with a softly murmured “Hey, sweetheart”. It’s enough for Light to melt right then and there. Hearing L’s voice in person just… Does things to him.

“Nervous?” L takes a step back to look Light up and down.

“A little.”

“Still up for a scene?”

Light’s cheeks are on fire, and he scans the ground in front of his feet while admitting he wouldn’t call it off for the world.

He follows L into the house, taking tentative steps, looking around. If L is anything like Ryuk, there should be a heap of dirty laundry somewhere, as well as empty takeout boxes. Trinkets collecting dust on the shelves. A collection of vinyl records scattered across the floor.

But as far as the eye can see, every surface is dusted, the door handles are polished, and the dishwasher hums quietly somewhere in the background.

It helps to put Light at ease. He’s staying the night – apparently, a sub drop is no joke, and L won’t leave anything to chance. Meticulous might as well be his second name.

With his heart hammering in his chest, Light enters L’s room.

The first thing that immediately catches his attention is a large, colourful pile of scatter cushions in one corner. Light’s grandma loved them, but her collection was far less impressive.

Next to that pile is an easel, which Light’s mind mistakes for another piece of BDSM furniture at first; he has to blink a few times to see the wooden frame for what it really is.

Ugh. Just… Pull yourself together, will you?

Light turns his attention to the bed – king-sized, with bluish-green sheets and a sturdy, slat headboard. You can easily handcuff someone to it.

A few fluffy towels are arranged at the foot of it.

“It’s all so… Normal,” Light mumbles, turning to face L. His Dom is leaning against the doorframe, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Let me guess – you expected red walls and suspending beams?”

Light can only nod, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. He assumed L’s room was be a smaller version of the play space in The Gilded Den. It seemed only logical.

“I do have a playroom,” L says with a shrug, “But I won’t be taking you there anytime soon. Judging by the way you reacted to the equipment at the club, we’re better off staying here. For the time being, at least.”

Right.

“That makes sense.”

“You can put your aftercare kit on the bedside table, and everything else in the closet.”

“Yeah, sure. Right away.”

Obediently, Light starts unpacking, happy to be guided. Once his backpack is empty, he holds it close to his chest, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“All done.”

“Alright. Would you like a cup of tea before we begin?”

It’s thoughtful of L to offer, but tea is literally the last thing on Light’s mind at the moment.

“I’d rather… Start right now. If that’s okay.”

“Sure. Let go of the backpack, then, love. You won’t need it.”

Light sets it on the floor. Anticipation bubbles in his belly, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t anxious as well. But that comes with inexperience, right? Fear of the Unknown et cetera. Totally normal.

With his gaze fixed on the floor, Light awaits further instructions, unable to stop wringing his hands.

“Alright,” L’s voice is still silky, but with an authoritative undertone that wasn’t there before. “Choose a cushion and bring it over here.”

It isn’t a task Light expects to be given. Nevertheless, he sets out to fulfil it, walking over to the pile and squatting down in front of it. He quickly picks one cushion up, clutching it to his chest. Then, he lets his legs carry him back to L.

L cups Light’s face in his hands, his grey eyes unwavering, thumbs tenderly stroking Light’s cheekbones.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Kira.” Light’s mouth is dry, his knees growing weaker. Already, he can feel arousal building up. It tingles, spreading all the way down to his thighs, causing his heart to beat even faster.

“Very good.” L leans closer, pressing a lingering kiss on Light’s forehead; a reminder that he’ll keep Light safe, that he’ll take care of him. “Drop the cushion and take off your clothes.”

All of them?

For a brief moment, Light hesitates, eyes wide and fingers digging into the soft cotton cover.

L quirks a brow.

Right, okay.

Shyness colours Light’s face as he loosens his grip on the cushion. It falls on the floor in front of L’s bare feet. Light keeps hypnotizing the motif, removing layer after layer.

Finally, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, biting his lip.

I can do this.

Little by little, he pulls the green fabric down his legs, revealing a birthmark on his right inner thigh. When he imagines L’s hands touching him there, parting his knees and stroking his cock, he shivers with need.  

When was the last time someone has seen him naked? He goes to the gym thrice a week, so maybe one of those steroid-lovers caught a glimpse of his dick in the showers?

But since Light didn’t notice, it doesn’t count.

Taking a deep breath, he now steps out of his boxers, adding them to the rest of the clothes and straightening up.

“Good boy,” L coos, coming to stand behind Light, a thumb pressed to his lips as he observes the sharp lines of Light’s body. The svelte frame and long limbs, the soft, creamy skin that hugs the crests of Light’s hipbones.

The lovely dip between Light’s clavicles practically begs L for a kiss.

As expected, Light’s hands are curled into fists and his eyes are squeezed shut – his way of battling nerves.

“You’re gorgeous,” L coos, placing a warm hand between Light’s shoulder blades, “Just perfect, every inch of you. It would be a crime to inflict any damage on this body; you were made to be pleasured. Worshipped, even.”

A needy whine slips out of Light’s mouth. The fact that he’s au naturel while L remains fully clothed adds to his vulnerability. It consolidates his position.

It’s… Liberating, in a way. Like going for a walk after weeks of having been bedridden. Light expected this to be humiliating and upsetting, kind of wished for it at first, to be honest – a part of him still can’t believe he’s a natural-born submissive – but letting L take the reins makes him feel good.

Aroused, too, if the twitching of his cock is anything to go by.

“You’ll keep being good for me, right?” L’s voice brushes against his ear, low and sensual – a growl of a beast ready to devour its unassuming prey.

Light’s throat vibrates, but no sound comes out at first. It takes two more attempts, and then a second to remember how he’s supposed to address L.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Mhm. That’s my darling. Kneel on the cushion.”

Cautiously, Light lowers himself down. His knees dig into the woollen filling and he breathes in. Out. In again. L’s comforting touch is gone, and Light wonders if an experienced sub would fall to their knees faster.

Is he a good sub if he’s not-so-quick to obey?

He wants to ask L about it, but he knows the deal; no talking unless given permission, unless he needs something or wants to stop.

This will have to wait until after their scene.

“Hands behind your back.”

Light obeys, curling the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist.

“That’s it. Perfect. Each of our sessions will start like this; with you kneeling naked on your cushion, facing the door. Regardless of where we play, when I tell you to go and prepare yourself for me, I expect to find you like this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Repeat it to me.”

Light does, word for word, his voice faltering only once.

L’s touch when he weaves his deft fingers into Light’s hair is unexpected, but welcome. It soothes Light’s mind, shushing it, leading it into a quieter place; a tucked-away corner, forgotten and cobwebby. Light had no idea his mind could reach this depth. He’s always been preoccupied with too many things. It’s always been so damn loud in his head.

Finding only silence for a change is nice.

“I’ve got you,” L promises, scratching Light’s scalp, “Everything’s okay, you don’t need to worry. Just listen to my voice and let yourself feel good.”

Light rests his temple against L’s clothed leg, humming contently. The level of trust he’s putting into L’s hands is insane, considering they aren’t lovers, (hell, considering they’ve only known each other for a few weeks), but it’s so easy. Natural.  

L finds this behaviour endearing, and his fond, quiet chuckle makes Light’s heart swell.

Tugging gently at those honey-brown strands styled to perfection, L tilts Light’s head back, revealing parted lips and eyes with blown pupils.

“I’m going to handcuff you. What’s your colour?”

Light blinks up at him: “Green.”

Handcuffs are okay. On paper, at least. Handcuffs and blindfolds and a few other things he said yes to in the questionnaire. He can’t remember them all. His stomach feels heavy, but it’s not unpleasant.

L walks over to the bed, reaching under the pillow.

Usually, he leaves the toys he plans on using in plain sight; most of his subs get aroused by having their favourite whips and dildos on display. To some, it’s enough to slip right into subspace.

In Light’s case, L needs to be tactful.

He retrieves the leather handcuffs, brushing against the two other items he keeps hidden there, and comes back to squat down in front of Light, who keeps staring at the door.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart.”

Desire claws at Light’s crotch, and it takes all he has not to whine. Which is pathetic, because L hasn’t done anything yet. He’s only securing the handcuffs around Light’s wrists.

“How does it feel?”

The handcuffs are wool-lined, connected with a sturdy chain. Their weight sits comfortably on Light’s skin.

“It’s… Nice. Sir.”

“Good. Go lie down on the bed.”

With both hands now bound in front of his body, Light scrambles up and shuffles over to the bed, climbing somewhat inelegantly onto it. He can feel L’s eyes on him, and is hit with a gust of insecurity that nearly robs his lungs of air.

However, it doesn’t last long; just until L joins him on the bed and settles on Light’s thighs, letting his weight pin Light down. His hands – warm, soft and gentle – start to leisurely explore Light’s body, and Light practically melts into the touch, forgetting all else.

Up until now, he’s been incomplete; an unfinished picture. And it’s only thanks to L, the master artist, that Light’s final form is seeing the light of day.

“Just relax,” L murmurs, squeezing the tension out of Light’s shoulders. “I want you calm and pliant if I am to spoil you.”

His hands start their tender descent alongside Light’s spine, gliding all the way down to the small of the sub’s back. L applies a little more pressure there, making Light hyper-aware of just how sensitive a body can be, how defenceless.

 Light whimpers, ready to accept it, eager to succumb. 

Satisfied with Light’s responsiveness, L keeps massaging his sub’s back for a bit longer, adding a few open-mouthed kisses here and there; He starts at Light’s left shoulder blade, then continues to the nape of his neck and behind his ear, Light’s pulse thundering against his lips.

Each kiss makes Light draw a sharp breath, and the closer L gets to the sweet spot between the shoulder and neck, the more responsive Light becomes, moaning and throwing his head back when L’s lips ghost over the skin there.

L smiles into Light’s skin: “Feels good, eh?”

“Yes, sir.” Light breathes out, eyes half-lidded and lips parted.

“Glad to hear that.”

Deeming Light ready for the next step in their play, L slips his right hand under the pillow again, this time to grab a bottle of lube.

“What’s your colour?” he asks once he retrieves it.

Desire makes Light shiver from head to toe. His response as he glances at the bottle is a breathy sigh: “Green.”

Nodding, L uncaps the bottle.

“One day, you’re going to work yourself open for me,” L declares. “I’ll sit back and watch you pump your fingers in and out of that lovely hole of yours. And you, honey, will keep looking at me the whole time. If you break eye contact, I won’t let you come.”

Light’s breath hitches, and he struggles to push an indecent whimper back into his throat. His mouth feels full of garbled words; enthusiastic consent mixed with weak protests, the idea of L watching him as thrilling as it is horrifying.

“But not today. Today, I want you on all fours, still as a statue,” L winks at him, shifting to allow Light to lift his hips. “Spread your legs a bit more… Thaaat’s it. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, Sir,” Light is resting his cheek on L’s pillow, skin flushed and burning. With every shallow breath he takes, he smells the floral scent of a fabric softener. It mingles with L’s musky odour and cologne; an unforgettable combination Light will miss when they say goodbye tomorrow.

How soon is too soon to schedule the next scene?

A jolt of anticipation makes his guts twist, but he doesn’t move, not even when L drizzles the lube onto the crack of his ass. He only gasps, curling his toes and grabbing the pillow with his shackled hands.

It’s cold, but not unpleasantly so. As it slowly dribbles down, Light whines, mortified and infinitely aroused in equal measure – having someone positioned directly behind your arse, where they can enjoy an unobstructed view of your twitching hole, requires some getting used to.

Light needs L to start caressing him again. Or talk to him. Or touch his cock. Growing desperate, he grunts, trying his best not to squirm.

Please, do something. Anything. Please!

But L is the one who decides what happens. If he wants to just watch, then he will. And it seems that he’s got no intentions to touch Light anytime soon. He only remarks that Light looks irresistible like this, which makes the sub even more flustered.

Is it too early to beg?

I’m losing my mind here! Please, just… Ugh!

Squeezing his eyes shut once again, Light focuses on his breathing. His hole is now wet and glistening and he itches to move, wondering for how much longer he’ll have to remain like this. While he can’t imagine being restrained, it would have been a great deal easier if he was. Just for now.

“So well-behaved,” L croons, satisfaction evident in his voice, and finally, fucking finally, he starts stroking Light’s back again.

How Light missed those warm palms.

He would like nothing more than to lean into the touch, revel in it, savour it, etch it into his memory for when he’s alone. But he doesn’t move an inch.

L’s fingers ghost over his entrance.

Against his will, Light flinches.

L leans closer to whisper in Light’s ear: “I know, sweetheart. You’ve never allowed anyone near your perfect arse, so it’s no surprise you’re nervous now. But I promise you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Light’s answer is an embarrassed wail, so L’s hand retreats, stroking Light’s flank instead. “Colour, baby?”

“It’s green… Just, ah, give me a moment. Please.”

“Sure.”

Languidly, L traces the curve of his sub’s back, waiting. He’s patient, calm. One would think they’ve got all the time in the world.

After a few moments, Light peeks out at L: “Could you maybe… Talk me through it?”

The first time Light tried to finger himself, L’s voice on the phone helped a great deal, as it provided both distraction and reassurance. Light is certain that this time, it would help just as much.

L hums, his eyes twinkling. “Ask me nicely and I might.”

Of course.

They’re still playing; as L’s sub, Light has to beg for things – that’s the deal.

The words form at the tip of his tongue. The push he needs to say them comes in the form of a tease; L uses his free hand – the one that’s not covered in lube – to rub Light’s left nipple between his fingers, and it practically punches a needy moan out of Light’s chest.

“Please, Sir,” Light rasps, “Please, please talk me through it.”

“… Alright.”

Normally, L would withhold his assistance until his sub was close to tears; but there’ll be enough time for that in the future. Light is already nervous as it is – understandably so. Like a new-born fawn balancing on its wobbly legs for the first time.

L scoots closer, raking his fingers through Light’s hair, ruffling it a bit.

“I won’t hurt you, Light. I could never hurt you. If at any point you want to stop, just use your safe word and we’ll skip straight to aftercare. Remember that nothing happens without your consent.”

 It isn’t until Light’s breathing slows down that L continues: “Here’s what’s gonna happen: I’ll start with one finger, and work my way up to three.”

Light glances at his rear, unsure, hesitant, then back at L with a silent question in his eyes.

“I’ll go slow.” L’s voice, kind and warm as ever, cuts through the haze of uncertainty surrounding Light’s thoughts, and L’s lips supply the much-needed reassurance. They map the arch of Light’s back, planting kisses from the small of Light’s back to his tailbone, leaving a wet trail.

“You’ve nothing to fear. I’ve got you.”

With that, L reaches down, pressing his forefinger directly against Light’s opening. Both the finger and Light’s backside are slick with lube, so the breach is painless, and Light’s muscles suck L’s finger in, all the way up to the third knuckle.

Light’s muffled mewls are music to L’s ears.

“See how well you’re doing? I can’t wait to have you stretched around my fingers.”

Light moans shyly into the pillow, consumed by yearning, surrendering to the sensation. L coaxes him into calming down, boosting up his confidence with words of adoration.

Soon after, Light starts to grow hard. The way L plays with him is arousing and familiar – slow, gentle movements, soothing in their predictability; like waves lapping at a shore. And that voice of his…

Good God.

More lube trickles down his buttocks before L adds another finger, slipping into the tight, welcoming heat. Light tenses up – just a little – and it’s a signal for L to wait, which the Dom immediately heeds.

L’s free hand reaches up to rub Light’s back in firm, grounding circles; the touch is a reward, but also a reminder to stay put.

Is L always like this? Or is it just this once?

Just because I’m hopeless?

L angles his fingers towards Light’s belly, locating the soft bundle of nerves within seconds, brushing against it and smiling.

Light sucks in a breath and grinds back without thinking.

This! Right there.

It’s exactly what he needs – for L to rub the sweet spot over and over again, soothing the burning ache until it disappears, until Light paints the sheets white.

L’s movements cease and the Dom tuts.

“None of that, love. You’re supposed to stay still, remember?”

“But –“

“Do you remember, or do we need to go over the rules again?”

“… I remember.”

“Good.”

With that, L starts scissoring Light open, listening to shy, quiet moans, half muffled by the pillow.

Quiet for now, that is.                                                          

“Once you can take all three of my fingers, we’ll switch to a butt plug,” L says matter-of-factly, “It’s bigger than the one you’ve been using, but I promise there’s no need to worry – it’ll fit.”

Careful and guarded, L pushes three fingers in. Light makes a loud, keening sound, squeezing around the intrusion. His heroic effort to stay still causes his thighs to shake.

The need to move, to squirm and buck his hips is overwhelming.

His heart thrums in his chest in a wild rhythm.

Three fingers seem like a lot at first, but it doesn’t hurt, and soon, Light is ready to beg for more. The fact that he can’t touch himself causes tears to prickle in his eyes.

He blinks them away, summoning every ounce of self-control he’s got left.

That’s when he feels it – the blunt tip of the aforementioned plug, slick with lube and pressing against his puckered entrance.

Light groans, waiting for the toy to slide in and stretch him.

“Colour?” L prompts him gently.

“Haah. Green. It’s green.”

“Alright. Take a deep breath.”

Light does, and L guides the plug in, slowly, stroking Light’s flank with the other hand. The first inch is in before Light even realizes it, and from there, it takes just a bit of coaxing and praise before the rest of the toy sits snugly in place.

Jesus fucking Christ.

It’s the right kind of stretch; the exact thing Light needed. He accepts the intrusion with a longing whimper, welcoming the rush of arousal that comes with it. His abdomen is flooded with liquid fire.

“…fect, Light, so perfect. Doing so well for me.” L’s voice is full of pride.

Instinctively, Light starts searching for his Dom, growing concerned when he’s unable to see him right away. He knows L is in the room with him, most likely still kneeling behind his backside, but his mind needs an actual proof.

He shuffles on his knees, clenching around the toy.

“L! I mean, Sir, where…?”

Warm hands gently grip his forearms, holding him in place.

“Right here,” L whispers, “I’m right here, Light.”

Light heaves a sigh of relief.

Good. Just checking.

L’s chest is pressed against his back, L’s warm breath tickles his ear.

Don’t go anywhere.

Don’t leave me.

 Light doesn’t have to say those words aloud; L seems to understand either way, without as much as looking at him.

“It’s okay,” with one final reassuring squeeze, L lets go of Light’s forearms. “Turn around for me. I want to see your face when I make you come.”

Light obeys, shifting and making himself comfortable. He spreads his legs without being told to. His heart flutters in his chest, the onslaught of emotions and the needy ache between his legs making him pant.

It intensifies tenfold when he feels L’s fingertips tap on the butt plug.

Oh. Oh, fucking…

Those featherlike, barely noticeable touches are enough to make Light curse aloud.

“Colour?” L asks.

“Green! Fuck!”

L pats Light’s thigh, his touch tender and caring. He knows Light won’t be able to hold out much longer. While this isn’t an intense play by any means, Light might become easily overwhelmed.  

Intent on rewarding his sub and spoil him afterwards, L pulls the plug out an inch, waits a moment, then pushes it slowly back in.

Again.

And again.

And then once more before he pulls it out completely, leaving Light’s hole empty and gaping.

Then, he shifts his attention to Light’s cock.

As soon as he does, the sub underneath him turns into a squirming mess.

Guttural moans grace L’s ears, together with a few more expletives.

Light would call those sounds undignified if he could spare them a thought. As it is, he doesn’t care one bit. He’s close, and when L takes him into his mouth, his mind blanks.

He’s heard the term “cock worshipping”.

But this… The tight, wet heat that envelops his whole length… The things L does with his mouth, his tongue… It’s out of this world.

When Light comes, it’s with L’s name on his lips.

Afterwards, it’s all a bit foggy for a while. The second Light comes to, the handcuffs are gone, he’s lying in L’s arms, still naked, with rosy cheeks and lips bitten almost bloody. But he’s cleaned up and warm and happy.

“There you are,” L smiles at him, “You’ve no idea how proud I am of you.”

Light blinks up at him: “Really?”

“Of course. You were amazing.”

That’s all it takes for Light to start crying. He thought he did a mediocre job at best, but the admiration in L’s eyes is real. So is his concern when he sees the tears.

But he wipes them away – every last one – and comforts Light with gentle back rubs and playful kisses.

The words “my good boy” resonate in Light’s mind until he falls asleep.

- - - - -

“Big brotheeeeer!”

Sayu’s enthusiastic grin fills the whole screen of Light’s phone. Light would never admit this, but he’s always happy to talk to her.

His sister’s smile can brighten anyone’s day.

“Hey, Sayu. How have you been?”

“I got my blue belt in aikido!”

“Wow, that’s great! Congratulations!”

“Thank you! I also had my hair cut, but I bet you didn’t notice… Oh, wait!”

Sayu squints at him, scrunches up her nose, then squeaks.

“My goodness! You’re wearing a leather jacket!”

“Faux leather.” Light emphasizes, the corners of his mouth twitching.

This, too, is Ryuk’s fault. All Light wanted was to buy some new underwear – an item Ryuk has never bothered to wear around him, which is why his decision to join Light was… Surprising, to say the least.

Once in the shopping centre, Ryuk talked Light into trying this jacket on.

“You were born to wear leather,” he said.

Initially a bit insecure (black wasn’t his colour), Light had to admit it looked quite nice on him. The tight fit definitely did something to his confidence.

Sayu still can’t believe it: “Is it yours? Like, did you actually buy it?”

“No, I stole it from one of my classmates after a lecture.”

He doesn’t regret paying over a hundred quid for it.

“Dear me, you must have lost a bet or something. Next time, you’re gonna buy a kilt.”

“They wear those in Scotland, little sister.”

Will L like it?

Does it even matter? They’re not romantically involved, L is just his Dom.

Their contract doesn’t say anything about catching feelings.

The fact that Light fell in love is… Unfortunate.

Say giggles: “What was it you said the other day? That you wouldn’t be caught dead in something so preposterous?”

“People change, Sayu.”

I also said I wouldn’t enjoy having a butt plug in my arse. And look at me.

It’s been three months since his and L’s first scene. Three months, during which Light’s love grew.

“You have to send me a picture! I’ll frame it and put it on the wall for all to see. Oh my God, you remind me of Hideki Ryuga!”

“Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“Hey!”

- - - - -

Three hours later, Light knocks on L’s door.

Just because.

He’s always welcome, L said so himself.

And, as it turns out, L Lawliet is a fan of leather as well. Light would never have guessed, given L only ever wears white shirts and faded jeans.

But the look in L’s eyes when he sees Light in that jacket speaks for itself.

On this day, they have sex.

Light feels ready, and his frantic whispers against L’s mouth about how he yearns to feel L deep inside, how he wishes for L to just take him, turn both of them on.

Granted, L’s arousal is a lot more subtle – if it wasn’t for the lustful gleam that makes his eyes darken, one might think that the idea of vanilla sex bores him to no end.

But Light’s body pressed against his, Light’s trembling hands that fumble with the hem of his shirt, Light’s hot breath on his neck… L wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Soon, the floor is strewn with their clothes – like in some sappy romantic movie – and Light can admire L’s naked body for the very first time.

L’s nipples are pierced.

Light tries to smooth his expression into impassiveness, but his eyes keep straying to those two titanium rings so often that, at one point, L tilts Light’s chin up and tuts: “My eyes are up here, you know.”

“Sorry,” Light licks his lips, almost afraid to touch L. The sleek metal makes L’s nipples look strangely delicate, and Light can’t imagine what it must have felt like.

“Did it hurt a lot?”

“For a second, yes. You can kiss it better if you want.”

“Can I?”

“They don’t bite.”

And so, Light lowers his head to gingerly wrap his lips around L’s left nipple – you poor bud – before switching to the right one, giving it the same treatment. The cold metal bites into the tip of his tongue as he flickers it over the sensitive flesh, and his own moan mixes with L’s.

Today, just for once, Light is not a sub and L isn’t his Dom. They’re just two men, devoted to each other and indulging in tender exploration.

Light’s lips follow an invisible trail from one of L’s nipples to the other, his breath hot and shaky against pale chest that rises and falls in predictable rhythm.

His hands keep hold of L’s hips, his fingers twitching with nervousness and urgency alike as they dig into the soft flesh. The need to be close to L is unceasing and urgent, leaving no room for other thoughts.

It’s just this.

Just them.

And it’s every bit as loving and sensual as Light hoped it would be.

The bed awaits them, fresh linen welcoming the combined weight of their bodies as they settle down on it, L on top of Light.

Being pinned down feels good; it’s exactly what Light craves. He lets go of L’s nearly bruised hips in favour of the rest of L’s body; his bottom lip wobbles as he strokes L’s back with uncoordinated reverence.

This is so different from their scenes, and yet so familiar. L’s praises and encouragement, Light’s desire to please L and make him proud.

With newly-found courage, Light reaches down to palm L’s cock, dragging his fingertips through the mass of pubic hair. He cradles the thick length in his hand, letting the sensation expand from his hand to his crotch. Soon, L will be inside of him – an idea that would have been unthinkable until recently, but now, it seems like the most natural thing in the world.

L explores Light’s body with gentle fingertips, alternating between fleeting brushes and firmer strokes, reining in his eagerness for now, cataloguing Light’s reactions. Light is trembling, but excitement bleeds into his moans. His eyes are wide and teary, but he’s clinging to L, burying his head into the crook of L’s neck, seeking guidance.

When L’s fingers coated with lube migrate south to grip the base of Light’s cock, Light arches his back, his hard nipples brushing against L’s pierced ones as a thrill of desire surges through him. Without thinking, he sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot where L’s neck meets shoulder.

L grunts, wincing a little.

Oh, fuck.

“Sorry, sorry,” Light whispers, hastily kissing the tender spot over and over again to make amends. His head is too clouded to come up with an excuse for this. He has no idea what came over him.

L laughs with his lips pressed to Light’s temple: “For someone who doesn’t like pain, you are quite violent.”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” Light’s frantic fingertips smother the bitten skin, as if they could wipe away the redness and the marks left by his teeth. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” L’s lips caress Light’s cheek, dragging the shadow of his stubble across Light’s cleanly shaven chin, “I didn’t say I don’t like it.”

He pulls away just enough to smirk playfully: “Go ahead. Show me what you’ve got.”

This whole time, he hasn’t let go of Light’s cock, his hand deliberately lazy as it slides up and down. Feeling like he might go crazy from that sensation alone, Light takes L up on that offer.

He covers L’s body in love bites and scratches.

Tomorrow, when he wakes up, he’ll probably feel guilty and remorseful, but for now, leaving proofs of his devotion on L’s chest and throat makes him content.

Gradually, they work each other up enough to move on to the next step.  

Sitting on his haunches, with fingers splayed across Light’s belly, L teases Light with two fingers, brushing the prostate just right, causing Light to mewl and gasp. But long before Light’s climax builds, L’s fingers withdraw.

While ecstatic, L still checks in with Light, making sure it’s okay to proceed before he puts a condom on.

Light wants to say something, but his mind is filled with cotton. In the end, he settles for garbled words that quickly merge into a breathy “Please!”, and with that, L slowly sinks halfway in. He mouths words of admiration into Light’s neck – a continuous, grounding touch of lips that gives Light something to focus on; something else than the insistent pressure between his legs. L’s hand strokes the taut skin of Light’s inner thigh until Light breathes out and relaxes.

“Just. Like. That,” L rewards him with a peck on the cheek before burying himself to the hilt.

The whole world narrows down to the sensation of having L sheathed so deep.

It’s… A lot, but not in a bad way. The fulness and the sudden rush of joy it brings makes Light moan, and he hooks his arms around L’s neck to bring him closer, kissing him fervently, whispering how good he feels right now.

How he wants to wake up next to L every day.

How he wants to obey him and make him happy.

Because he loves him. God, how he loves him.

On the verge of tears again, Light risks a glance at L.

And before L pushes him over the edge, he whispers those same words against Light’s lips.