Dynamism

She avoids L for three straight days.

It's on the fourth day that she comes home from a modeling gig with Matsuda to discover that the entrance-way table has been cleared of its usual clutter, instead adorned with a solitary lavender rose with a bow tied around its long, elegant stem. Misa pauses as she takes notice of it, halting in mid-chatter, and Matsuda peers over her shoulder at the flower in curiosity.

"Oooh," Matsuda coos appreciatively, and Misa quirks one blonde eyebrow at him. "It's lavender," he points out, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. A little more helpfully, he adds, "it indicates enchantment. Seems someone's really infatuated with you, Misa-Misa!" He laughs, obnoxiously, and the sound of it is grating to her. "Not that that's surprising in the least... you're a famous actress after all!" His eyebrows crease together in worry as a thought suddenly occurs to him. "But I wonder how they knew that you were staying here...? I better go tell Ryuuzaki and the others..." he bumbles off.

Misa is completely nonplussed. She picks up the rose between her forefinger and her thumb, studying its lovely contours up close.

Really, Ryuuzaki? Misa thinks, frowning thoughtfully at it. Bribery?

--

It's around three AM when she finally makes up her mind and decides to pay L another visit. She leans against the door and hears the faint tp-tp-tp! of someone typing furiously away on a keyboard. She knocks, once, and awaits a reply. There is a pause, and the sound of someone shifting on a bed before L's reply comes drifting from beyond the other side: "Come in."

She opens the door. The room on the other side is dark, save for the ghostly glow of the laptop's monitor on L's face. Misa lingers in the doorway for a moment, her eyes drifting over to the unconscious form of Light sprawled out on top of the comforter beside the detective. Something in her chest twists up uncomfortably at the angelic sight of him, because this is the first time she's seen him in days and it stirs up feelings of guilt and shame. She tries to suppress this and returns her gaze back to L instead. She sees that he's quite openly staring at her, taking her in her supple curves and smooth, silky skin. She's only wearing lingerie tonight, black and lacey panties with a sheer camisole that clings tantalizingly to the curve of her breasts. His face betrays no emotion, but she know that he wants her, can feel the desire rising off of him in waves.

“Hello, Misa-san.” His listless voice pierces the silence of the room.

"Misa-Misa got your present," she says as way of a greeting, finally shutting the door quietly behind him. "Misa didn't think flowers were your style, Ryuuzaki."

"They aren't," L says. "I didn't send them." He's a terrible liar, she thinks, and approaches. L closes his laptop and looks up at her as she bends over and clasps each hand on one of his shoulders.

"Did you miss Misa?" she whispers, breathing the scent of fruit-gum on his pallid face. He does not verbally respond and instead closes the gap between them by leaning forward and brushing their lips together. Misa hums her approval, parting her lips to grant him access and he obliges, tracing her tongue delicately along the inside of her mouth. His kisses are tender, gentlemanly almost, and either he's a quick learner or more skilled than he had originally let on (which means that the first time between them could have been attributed to nerves or spontaneity, fierceness and uncertainty, or maybe all of the above.) Either way, Misa is pleased.

It is several moments before she decides to put their little make-out session on hold. She steals a glance at Light and feels that little twinge again, a tug at her heartstrings, because she just loves him so much, and she hopes he never misconstrues what she's doing here, because it's all in the name of the greater good, in order to vanquish a common enemy.

This is a noble endeavor, I swear!

"How long has he been asleep?" she whispers.

"Light-kun went to bed just after 2:45 AM, and has been undergoing REM for approximately fifteen minutes," L rattles off immediately in response, conjuring up information from the deep recesses of his big scary super-brain, and sets the laptop on the floor beside the bed. Almost nonchalantly, he adds, "If we were to seize a prime opportunity, right now would be ideal."

She nods once. Then, a little more slyly, she asks, "do you want Misa, Ryuuzaki?"

He nods, and she shakes her head, wagging her index finger in his face. She fixes him with a rueful smile.

"No, no, let's try again. Do you want Misa, Ryuuzaki?"

She watches in satisfaction as he squirms uncomfortably on the bed. He clears his throat, and then, in a voice barely above a murmur, he says, "yes." In response, Misa pulls herself up onto the bed and swings her legs over his hips so that she drops into his lap, straddling him. Ryuuzaki gives a tiny little gasp in surprise and immediately tenses up in response, glancing at Light's blissfully unaware face and then back at Misa again.

She feels the heat of him against her, and it triggers her own warmth in response. "That's better, but still not good enough, Ryuuzaki. Misa wants to hear you say it."

"Misa," L hisses at her. "Must I remind you that Light-kun is sleeping a mere sixty-one centimeters away? It would be in our best interests to keep the noise level to a minimum, and that includes unnecessary vocalization such as idle conversation! Or would you rather him wake up in mid-coitus to discover the true extent of our torrid little love affair?"

Love affair, huh? She almost smiles at that. In your dreams, L.

"Hm, you're probably right," Misa says, cocking her head at him in an exaggerated display of contemplation. "In which case, this whole arrangement is probably a bad idea." She lifts herself up out of his lap, but before she can crawl completely out of bed he grabs her wrist with his long, skeletal fingers and steers her back on top of him.

"I want you, Misa," he gives in, and his usually blank stare holds a kind of almost-desperation. Putting L at a disadvantage makes her tingle in happiness, and she thinks the loss of control suits him. She considers toying with him some more until he adds, "please," which is what really seals the deal for her.

Few things compare to the adrenaline rush she receives from knowing that she's conquered him, again, and she gives an impish giggle. "Just for that, Ryuuzaki," she says, speaking quietly as to not disturb Light. "Misa is going to give you a little bonus." And she slides down the length of his body until she's resting in-between his slightly parted thighs. She tugs the zipper to his jeans down and almost immediately he lifts his hips up in response so that she can pull free what's confined within.

L's breath hitches as she takes hold of him and she glances up so that she can savor his look. His expression is best comparable to a gasping fish caught on a line, because his eyes are slightly wider than usual and he is slack-jawed, mouth ajar. It's absurdly comical and she has to look away and bite her lip in order not to laugh. His member twitches slightly in her hand and she smirks and brings her lips down to brush the edge of it exquisitely. L intakes a sharp, shuddery breath.

"M-Misa..."

That's just what she wants to hear, and she returns to the matter at hand with determined vigor. Beneath her, L all but thrashes under the duress of her administrations. She hears the rustle of comforters as he alternates between gripping the bedspread and smoothing the blonde sweep of her hair, as if unsure what to do with himself in his current predicament.

His taste is sweet in her mouth after he finishes. When she meets his gaze she can’t help but notice how the man does not seem to sweat at all, even under intense physical strain. His face is contorted up in an expression of complicated relief and gratitude, and she idly thinks how the only time his mannerisms aren’t carefully articulated and controlled is when he comes. This is L as nobody has ever seen him before, she thinks, not without a certain sense of accomplishment. This is L stripped of his façade; this is L, vulnerable; this is L, susceptible and ripe for the picking.

This is my own brand of justice.

--

He's got it all wrong, she thinks later, as she leans over the sink and rinses out her mouth with mouth-wash for the fifth time. Light is a very deep sleeper. Which makes her job of deconstructing L a little easier on her, and she's sincerely grateful for the break.

Afterwards she does not cry, but she feels sick to her stomach, and the affliction does not leave her for days.