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Fever Dreams	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > L/Light Views: 2733 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
CHAPTER 26
When L finally sent for Light, it was through employees, without showing his face in public, just as L had earlier described it would be. It was very sudden. Just before it happened, Light was walking across campus, heading for the nearest bus stop to go home, with Takada and Yasunaga, the captain of the tennis club, walking with him and conversing in what seemed to be a casual way, but was actually subtle attempts to convince him to join their respective clubs. The Kira club had grown enormous ever since the idea that anyone could be Kira and could afterwards forget it had spread in the media.
As Light neared the edge of campus a convertible car drove up and pulled to the curb, holding all seven of the students he'd earlier identified as plants working for either L or N. One of the girls waved and said, "Hey, Light! We're all going to a karaoke bar. Want to come?"
This can only be the next meeting with L.
Light said, "Sure," and changed course towards the car.
Yasunaga said, "Well, I have too much homework to do," and wandered away, but Takada stuck with Light and called out to the car, "Hey, can I come with you?"
Takada still hasn't completely given up. What an idiot! Or perhaps she only wants to be friends?
One of the boys replied, "There's only room for one more person in the car, and there won't be space for you in our booth once we arrive. Sorry, Takada!"
Light climbed into the car. He'd talked to each of them at various points and knew the names of all these students, or rather, he knew the fake names they went under. He was sure none of the names were real.
As soon as the car had pulled away into the street, one of the girls, called Rin, said, "We'll need to blindfold you, perform a search and dress you in different clothing. We will not be performing any cavity searches. This search is being videotaped to assure you there won't be any abuse. Any molestation or any humiliating tactics would result in immediate termination of our jobs and legal actions. Do you want females or males to search you?"
Light said, "Males, as long as they are completely professional."
Rin said, "We're all professionals here," and climbed over the seat into the front, sitting next to the girl who was driving, leaving only males in the back seat with Light.
With a mechanical sound, a roof began ascending to enclose the car. The guy sitting to Light's right pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and put it on Light, while at the same time the guy to Light's left began unbuttoning his shirt. The procedure was short and very business-like, with only the slightest brushes against Light's skin to undress him and then dress him again. They left the blindfold on afterwards. From the too-frequent right turns, Light got the impression that they were driving in circles to confuse him.
At last Light felt his blindfold being pulled off and felt the car pull to the side of the road at the same time.
A guy called Kenta pointed at a nearby apartment building and said, "All the items we approve of have been placed back in the pockets of your new clothing. Go to the sixth floor. It is apartment sixty-four. We will leave. We'll drop off the box with your original clothing at your house. When you are ready to return home, a taxi will suffice."
It will be like this from now on. A search, and then a meeting, every time I see him. Will he have us working on a case together again? I wonder which one, since the last one is already solved.
When Light finished the elevator ride up and knocked on the door, L answered it and said, "I do not always live in hotel rooms. Since you have seen this apartment, I will move out as soon as you leave."
It was a spacious, airy apartment, decorated in themes of white and clear glass panels. Immediately behind L was a room two stories in height, with a glass staircase along the back wall leading up to a balcony. The furniture was sparse and spread out, inadequately populating the large room.
Light leaned around the doorjamb and looked both ways. He said, "Where's Watari?"
"Watari will not be joining us today. This is a date."
"You're not going to always wait two weeks between dates, are you?
L turned his back and in a monotone said, "I must make my movements unpredictable. There will be no set schedule. I already told you that. I might see you again tomorrow, or three weeks from tomorrow. You will never know."
L shut and locked the door, and then moved further into the room, aiming for a small desk off to the side.
L said, "I am a failure at dating, so I do not know what to do with you. I hope you will like what I have planned. If it is too tedious, we will try something else next time. I will not tell you anything that would allow you to discover my identity, but I wish to reveal more of myself to you. Therefore, I will show you one of my hobbies."
"I didn't think you had hobbies."
L pulled open a drawer on the desk and said, "I did not have time for hobbies during the Kira investigation. I usually take up new hobbies on a regular basis, and stick with each hobby until I feel I have mastered it."
L began pulling out many little glass bottles, like perfume bottles except maybe too plain for that. All of them were empty and unlabeled.
L continued, "Tennis and flying helicopters are two of my former hobbies. This is my newest hobby. I started it after you left."
I wasn't the one who left. You dumped me, in the most retarded way possible, by turning your back on me and telling me to go away. Well, I've got you now and you won't get away again.
When L began removing tiny paintbrushes with strangely curved tips, along with some paint bottles, Light immediately understood and said, "Nei Hua! The Chinese art of painting the interior of tiny bottles. I didn't know you could paint."
L said, "Actually, I can't paint. I follow a pattern. It is like painting by numbers. The real skill lies in two things: the ability to paint at all under such constricted circumstances, and the necessity of painting backwards. In Nei Hua, every stroke must be perfect. You put down the foreground elements first, finishing with the background. Unlike with ordinary painting, mistakes cannot be corrected or painted over. One misplaced stroke ruins the painting."
L carried the supplies to a long glass coffee table and began setting them out: brushes, paints, the empty bottles, instructional diagrams, cleaning rags, and water baths and drying racks for the brushes.
Light sat down in an upholstered chair at the end of the coffee table, while L hopped onto a couch at the side of the coffee table. The dazzling clean all-white upholstery in close proximity to so many paints made Light nervous, but he tried to get rid of the feeling. L could certainly afford any spills, so it shouldn't be a big deal.
Light picked up a stack of instructional diagrams and flipped through it, trying to figure out the basics of the techniques.
L said, "So far, my record is seven in a row with no mistakes."
"How long did it take to make one with no mistakes?"
"Three hours."
"I'll beat you today. Just watch."
L said nothing, but continued arranging and setting up his work space. Soon he was dangling a bottle in front of his face in a two-fingered grip in one hand, as his other hand snaked a tiny brush through the bottle-neck and made almost imperceptible tiny movements to paint.
Light watched L for a time, and then followed L's lead, setting up his items in the same way and then selecting the instructions to paint a turtle. It was mostly oval shapes, which shouldn't be too difficult.
With the first eight bottles Light tried, he made a mistake on the second or third stroke. It was an art form that demanded absolute perfection. It took an hour to get to the point where he was able to produce one lumpy-looking, lopsided turtle. It was correct only in the sense that he hadn't made any mistakes beyond not lining up the shapes correctly. In that same time, L produced two bottles with identical mountain scenes. L's painting was beautiful, even though he was only copying strokes in the order shown on a card propped in front of him. Light took a break long enough to admire L's handiwork.
Without pausing or glancing in Light's direction, L said, "Landscapes are easier. With animals, it is extremely difficult to place the eyes correctly. Mine always look as if they are suffering from severe concussions."
Then I made a mistake by deciding that a painting consisting largely of ovals would be the easiest.
Light shuffled through the instructional diagrams again and picked out one for a scene of young bamboo shoots against a sky blazing orange and red from the setting sun. Several frustrating starts let nowhere, but by the time L had lined up three more of his perfect little tiny mountain scenes, Light had produced one painting of the bamboo that wasn't horribly crooked. He frowned at it, still unsatisfied. It was too easy to smear the edges of the bamboo leaves and create odd shapes that didn't look right, and the branches were strangely angled, lending a jumbled look to the entire thing.
He went through the instructions again, trying to memorize them, trying to completely master them and dig out any hints to the technique that weren't obvious, and he watched L again, seeing what he did, the way he followed the instructions and held the brushes so delicately and precisely.
Then Light threw himself into the project so fiercely that he was barely aware of the room around him or of time passing, only having an awareness of the process, the repetitive motions of the pattern slowly taking shape, and the slow progress as each bottle looked slightly better than the one before it.
He was startled out of his concentration when L said, "Light, please come here."
Light looked up from the bottle he was working on. L was crouched in the middle of the couch, his face concealed in the nook formed by his arms wrapped around his knees. Only his fluffy black hair stuck up out of that hidden space.
Light made his way over, and as he sat down next to L's crouched form, L said, "Hold me."
L's position had made him into a collection of bony, jutting angles, but Light wrapped his arms around L all the same, holding him from behind and slightly to the side. L started trembling almost imperceptivity, and then after a time he stopped trembling, let out a satisfied-sounding sigh and relaxed into Light's arms. His position didn't change but his muscles felt looser. L's face was still hidden. Light slowly trailed his fingers through the soft, fluffy hair.
He's so childish. He's like a child needing to be held.
L was slumping heavily, his body feeling boneless, soft, unresisting. He was so warm. Was he asleep? Light carefully rearranged him to turn his face upward, cradling him from behind, L's head resting against his chest. Then Light reached down and delicately swept the hair away from L's eyes.
They were wide and staring.
L seemed like some fairy-tale creature, too odd and delicate for this world, all large eyes and spindly, elongated limbs and a mind that was so very sharp, so quick to dart ahead of everyone else's. Light looked and looked into those dark eyes, forgetting about trying to read the expression in them, feeling pulled into the depths, almost drowning in L's gaze. It was a frightening sensation, like dissolving, losing a sense of self. Light had an instinct to draw back, to retreat and only face L again after he was more composed, yet the drowning sensation was also an intoxicating, alluring feeling and he wanted more of it.
L stared up at Light and blinked several times slowly, owlishly, his large eyes opening and closing in an odd way that seemed almost non-human. Light had a sudden sense of just how fragile L was, and how thin and small his body was. L had escaped death narrowly so many times.
He must have been very frightened that Kira would kill him, starting when he first approached me, though he never showed it. He knew he could die at any time; he was always mentioning it. He's been extremely brave. I wish I could prove to him that I'll never hurt him; I wish I could show him how safe he is now, that the criminal deaths will never resume.
Every part of L was incredibly warm and soft and accommodating. He did not feel at all dangerous.
What I did wasn't wrong. It would have been wrong if I'd continued the Kira plan after it was obvious it would ruin the world and make me too mentally unbalanced to rule properly.
No, anyone who was handed such a great power, even if that power was killing others, anyone should try to change the world for the better. Not trying at all would have been a moral failure, it would have been cowardly, and who knows whether Ryuk would have given the death note to a maniac next and killed me. That outcome would have been completely unacceptable.
What I did was justified. It had to be justified. Raye Penber and Naomi Misora and all those other cops, when they died it wasn't pointless. They died as part of an experiment to see if my utopia would be viable, and they died to save those victims who would have been impacted by crimes that I prevented. Crime rates decreased significantly at points, and all those would-be victims owe their happy lives to me and to the people I sacrificed for them.
I stopped at the correct point. What I did as Kira was not wrong. It only would have been wrong if I'd continued.
Light suddenly had an irrational urge to simply tell L the complete truth.
That obviously wasn't going to happen. It was a huge risk, probably fatal. And even if L had become biased and wouldn't arrest Kira, it would be a tremendous strain on the relationship. L would always be happier if he thought there was some chance of innocence. L's happiness was important.
After I lose my memories, even I will probably think I was never Kira. It won't be the first time I've conspired to fool myself. I'll be happier that way too.
L said, "Light, you look so thoughtful. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about us."
"It's best not to think about that."
"Why?"
L hesitated, then closed his eyes again and said, "Just shut up and hold me."
An orange-red glow from the sunset was streaming through the closed curtains, bathing all the white surfaces in the apartment. Nothing in there was truly white any longer.
Light twisted around slightly, re-arranging L and tightening his grip, and L let out another of his beautiful sighs, relaxing even more into Light's arms.
I could almost reach-
Light slipped his hands under L's shirt, tracing circles across the smooth skin of his stomach. L was so clean. He had almost no scent at all, as if he'd just showered. He barely sweated, and his skin never tasted very salty.
Light let his fingers trail down very slowly to the edge of L's jeans, enjoying the process of hearing L's breathing speeding up and then, as Light struggled with the button and zipper, hearing those breaths become slightly shaky.
If I pulled him backwards a little, I could have him sitting directly in my lap.
Light pulled down L's jeans and underwear, and then got rid of his own clothing. The pristine whiteness of the couch didn't matter any more, only the need to touch and to provoke those lovely responses, to merge their warm bodies together. Light pulled a tube of lubricant from his trousers, reached underneath with one hand and began preparing L for entrance with slippery fingers while his other hand reached around and began stroking L's half-erect cock to further hardness.
It was difficult to wait until the moment L was ready, though it did not take long. Then, Light lifted L up and backwards, L helping steady things with his leg muscles and a hand on the couch's back. Light kept a tight grip on those narrow hips to maneuver precisely, guiding L's body downward onto his waiting erection.
L cried out so loudly at the moment of penetration that Light was afraid for a moment he'd hurt him, but when Light paused L pressed down, whimpering and wriggling, trying to get more contact. Light let him slide all the way down the shaft in one slow, delicious movement, right into Light's lap.
And then Light was holding him, rocking slightly back and forth to give himself stimulation, resting his chin on L's shoulder, having one side of his face tickled by L's hair. Light started up his stroking again with both hands, harder and relentless, squeezing to get reactions out of L, savoring the sounds and little moans and the way L squirmed on top of him as if trying to get even deeper penetration, though that wasn't possible. Light's penis was in completely, all the way to the hilt, enclosed in exquisite heat.
Light could feel L's approaching climax in the growing tenseness of his muscles, and the way his back tried to uselessly arch though there was no room for it in their position, along with the way L's breath kept catching and restarting.
I wonder if I could get him to come for me on command again.
L's growing excitement was contagious. Even though Light was only getting a little stimulation from the rocking motions, unable to properly thrust at all, he could feel tension building in his body just at the juncture where they were joined and he rocked more fiercely.
At the exact moment Light felt it was right, he stroked L's penis harder than ever and whispered, "Come, now."
Two seconds later he could feel and see L's release, spilling out over his hands as the man twitched on top of him, delightfully impaled.
It wasn't enough, not even slightly. Light needed to hold L down and give him a proper fucking right then; he couldn't wait even one moment. It was an overwhelming frenzy of need, a driving instinct. Light pushed L forward and followed him down with sharp, short thrusts, unwilling to completely withdraw to find a new position. He ended up with L sprawled on his side on the couch and Light scrambled to make it work somehow, raising one of L's legs so high against his chest it practically pointed straight up and straddling the other leg, placing one knee against L's back and the other against his front.
A molten, tingling heat was gathering in his groin as he sped up the pace. L was spread incredibly open and Light felt as if he was slipping deeper than ever before, truly penetrating. He clutched L's raised leg more tightly to his chest and used it as leverage to plumb him deeply, feeling an intoxicating surge of pleasure growing higher each time he thrust in.
L's facial expression was rhythmic, looking mildly surprised with each inward thrust and suffused with bliss the rest of the time. L stared up at Light with parted lips and lidded eyes, displaying raw emotion without attempting to hide it, and at last L closed his eyes. His face was perfect, completely perfect, even to the blush-like pinkish coloring along his cheeks and nose.
Light came to the sight of that face and to the warmth deep within L, releasing and releasing what felt like an enormous amount of semen, all the pent-up tension flowing out in pleasurable spurts.
When Light could breathe enough to speak he said, "Did you do that on purpose? Waiting two weeks so I'd have a greater need and a better orgasm? Don't make me wait so much."
Without opening his eyes, L said, "Will you stay here tonight? Will you sleep in my bed? I can send you back in the morning."
Light said, "Yes."
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Fever Dreams