Redeemer

Mello had already resolved to stick around and keep an eye on Linda during her turn at watch. He had some work to catch up on regardless, and the girl was most definitely distracted and antsy, and alternately drawing crazed images of B, and sultry images of L in the margins of her notepad for the better part of the last hour. No one had brought up her ‘absence’ for the majority of the day, and she was now so definitively spooked thanks to both Light and L and their ludicrous well-argued theories, that it seemed she’d almost forgotten to be so anxious about it—until L appeared in the doorway and her breath visibly stuck in her throat.

Mello looked up and caught the detective’s stare. “I’ll take over from here,” L said to him. “You can go get some rest.”

Of course Mello had been wanting to pull L aside all day and ask him why the better part of his reason was last seen heading south—not only that, but why in god's name was he buying into this B thing? But seeing as how Linda and her rather delicate disposition were still present, and L seemed more in favor of shooing Mello from the room without any semblance of discussion, Mello thought it best perhaps to address things at another time.

He did flash the detective a questioning look, however, but did not follow through. "Alright." He muttered and unfolded himself off the couch, gathering his small mountain of books from the table. "Let me know if anything comes up." Which he knew would not happen unless someone actually stormed the villa, but it was worth the effort either way. Who could blame him for being somewhat disgruntled by this goddamned spook theory cementing its way into their minds?

Rubbish.

When the door closed behind him, Linda flipped several pages of her note pad to a clean sheet. The last thing she needed was for L to see in what light she'd been drawing him. She supposed he already knew, or had seen it through the cameras or, well... it was a given, wasn't it? But it was another animal altogether different to have him look at it in person. She wasn't sure she'd be able to live through the possibility of getting an actual commentary.

"You've been working on another case," she said, glancing up. "Please don't set that aside on my account. I'll be fine for a couple of hours..." Or at least she hoped she would. The study, however, was not so bad. She was used to it. It was brightly lit. It was the various darkened corners of the house that unnerved her.

“I’ve been setting that particular case aside my whole life,” L replied flatly, and then without warning leaned over Linda’s shoulder to clack at the keyboard in front of her. Linda stiffened, her eyes following the speedy way he keyed in the security access code and promptly disabled all the cameras in the study.

Oh my God.

The action actually sent chills through her—of the good variety—but L pulled back, rounding the corner to plunk down in his favorite chair. “Now they’ll think we’re having sex,” he mumbled nonchalantly, and Linda’s eyes went wide. “But I need to talk to you privately.”

It took Linda a moment to pull that one together. Had L just completely set her up by having sex with her earlier to lay the foundations for this secretive alibi of his now? The thought grinded inside her, and she blinked at him—“What?” The sudden notion that she’d been an utter fool was rushing over her fast, and L caught it easily in her face, his dark eyes fixed on her beneath a shadowy line of uneven bangs.

“You’re taking this wrongly,” he said, “It may sound crass, but it is the best way to justify why the cameras are off to certain watching parties.”

Linda swallowed dryly and tried to shoo that used feeling from her mind. She felt like crying nonetheless because she couldn’t figure him out just then, and here she’d been dreaming about what had happened all day—and if he’d just been setting her up by…

“Linda,” L’s voice was solid and snapped her out of her mounting panic. “I need your head clear right now—this has nothing to do with us.”

There was an us?

“I’m sorry,” she managed, “I just—”

“Kira’s up to something,” L said before she could get another word out.

Her face twisted. Kira? “Light?”

“Yes, Light,” L replied, “There is truly no other Kira as far as I’m concerned.”

Linda’s own troubling thoughts fell away at that moment and she gave her full attention to the detective. L’s gaze shifted to the monitors where Light was calmly in his room reading a book. “He wants me to believe that this really is B, and I want to know why.”

“So you don’t—”

L cut her off again. “Whether I think this has anything to do with B is incidental, I want to know why Kira is adamant that I do. I want to know what it is that made his disposition do a complete 180 since yesterday—I want to know what he’s plotting.”

Linda blinked, her brow furrowed, intent on his words because just then it seemed as if L was asking the impossible of her. That was a question she could not answer. She was not the expert as far as Light was concerned. "I spoke with him yesterday while you were out on the grounds." It seemed like weeks away. "I did not pester him for anything," she added, remembering what L had asked her before heading outside. "He started opening up to me and I took the liberty of digging deeper. It seemed to have...helped." She paused, uncertain. "He was much more himself afterward, much as he has been today. Whether it is but another facade or not, I cannot tell." She frowned and pulled one knee up, resting her chin upon it as she chewed idly on the tip of her pen. "I'd like to think that I've made progress as far as Light's concerned, but he flip-flops so much that it is still hard for me to differentiate what is what." She sounded disappointed. "In regards to B—I cannot even begin to imagine what it is he's plotting..."

“Nor can I,” L muttered, “Unless he just enjoys seeing me uneasy. Kira is in dire need of a power trip—with nothing much at his disposal, he’s going to seek out ways to control the rest of us through other means. Seems his chosen mode at present is psychological…” L tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, and then got up and started pacing, Linda watched him puzzled as L normally wasn’t one to outright express his agitation this way. Nevertheless he started rattling off the particles of conjecture in the hopes that they would all float together and fit to make some semblance of sense:

“If we accept that there is someone on the premises, be it supernatural or not, then that is a separate entity from Kira’s mind games. He’s feeding the fire, but without knowing exactly what we’re up against, he runs the risk of placing himself in danger with his own cocky arrogance… unless he is not threatened. It’s possible, his God-complex won’t allow him to tremble at the notion of things he feels pose no threat to him…no, no, no, that’s not it,” L back-peddled. “He’s not afraid because he sees no reason to be afraid…but by his own words, if this were BB-related, Kira factors in as one of the great offenders… so he’s not afraid, why? Matt and Mello are not afraid because they are skeptical of the nature of this situation—you and I are checking over our shoulders because we’ve allowed B back in to our psyches—Light wants that, but does not suffer it himself…” L stopped for a moment, chewing on his thumb. “No, I’m missing something obvious…I put Kira on the backburner—he was insulted by it at first, but now he is fine with it… why? Because it took the spotlight off of him…normally he wants that spotlight, it’s only when he’s trying to get away with something that he doesn’t… so what is he doing? He pretends to be skeptical but makes strong arguments in favor of B’s resurrection… because it gives him a sense of power to see me unnerved? That’s part of it I’m sure but….” L stopped a muttered flatly, “I’m being paranoid.”

Linda gaped at him and the way he just grinded everything to a halt. For a long moment the detective was silent, eyes staring into nothing. “Let’s simplify it. There is someone here. Someone who may or may not be posing as Beyond Birthday. When did this first occur? Lastnight. Kira ran outside. Mello ran out after him. Mello was injured inexplicably. Kira reappeared… demanded I give him something to do—requested B. He accepted your role as his therapist. He opened up to you. Now he is purportedly feeling better… is that the truth? Or was he feeling better before that? Outside? The therapy was a valid excuse for him to feel better… If there is someone on the premises that injured Mello last night, that puts them and Kira in the same vicinity while Kira was outside and MIA—what are the odds they met, and are now working together?” L’s thumb smudged his lip across his face. “5%. What are the odds they know each other? And how could that be the case?” L stopped again. “I’m being paranoid,” he repeated, but he sounded less convinced of it this time.

Linda’s head was spinning, but she supposed this was the sort of thing that went on in L’s mind on a constant basis, he just didn’t normally voice it. He continued regardless: “Kira is not afraid because he knows who is behind it and has already verified that they are no threat to him. Whether they are a threat to the rest of us remains to be seen. Now he is sitting back in amusement to watch everyone else scramble around, and that puts him back in control… yes. That is it.”

Linda’s mouth hung open.

“But why?” L reiterated, just when it sounded like he’d come to the proper conclusion.

“But who?” Linda at last interjected. “I mean, what if…” she shuddered, “What if you’re both right? What if Kira knows it’s B, but because of what Kira himself is, he knows he cannot be hurt in this situation? What if he met B out there in the woods and came to that conclusion?”

“Now you’re being paranoid,” L said quickly.

Linda’s mouth snapped shut, as though the detective hadn’t convinced everyone that he was convinced their houseguest was Beyond Birthday.

“But that’s what worries me…” L finished. “Because who else would be able to pose as B this way? Who else would know my name? Would know the noises Beyond used to make? Would understand his movements and his methods? The only ones who know those details are under this roof… and under Wammy’s roof, which leaves the possibility open that Near has something to do with this… but I’ve barred Near’s clearance and Roger knows that, would not willing give up any info on B if Near asked…”

L sunk down in the chair again and pulled his legs to his chest. “If I confront Light on this matter he will lie to the best of his ability—for now, he can think that he’s got me right where he wants me and that I don’t suspect him in the slightest… but what is it I suspect him of…”

Both were silent for a while, Linda watching L with a semi-owlish look that practically seemed a trend among Wammy alumni. She had taken up her notepad and pressed it against her uplifted knee, clearly the visual type even so far as thought processes were concerned and when it became this bad of an intermingled mess, it seemed to all make more sense on the page. And thus she was left with hasty sketches and scribbled notes depicting all L had just rattled off. It made sense in theory - the explanations did, but the conclusion was left blank - illustrated with darkly colored question mark. Linda stared at the page with a mixture of wonder and frustration. He was right—they were missing too great a point. There was a detail hidden away beneath all of this that had gone unnoticed. But what? What could have possibly been overlooked by all of them?

What could have gone under the radar with everyone on the look out? What were they forgetting? Or were they giving Light too much credit? No. That was the problem, he'd been placed in the background with everything else that'd been going on and that perhaps was their greatest mistake. Linda had been working on figuring him out but L's attention had been diverted, as if they'd all thought him controlled and no longer a menace. She chewed on her lip, adding to the page. Near was left on the sidelines because while he was a possibility, it was such a remote chance that it was not worth looking into that deeply. They had him monitored and of course, he lacked the proper information.

Her hand drew away and only halfway into the newly added sketch did she pause, realizing what other distant possibility her mind was feeding her. She gasped and looked up sharply at L. "Are we discarding the possibility of another Shinigami? My paranoia might have gotten the best of me last night, but Mello also caught something on screen and headed upstairs to investigate only to find nothing there. You clearly saw and heard something yourself. We can't all be going mad here," she almost sounded convinced because just then the presence of a death god was one hundred times better than that of Beyond Birthday's. Funny that.

“If it were a shinigami other than Ryuk—only the person in direct contact with that shinigami’s notebook would be able to see them,” L answered. “But I’ll explore that option—it could be Ryuk, but I doubt it. That particular Death God has stayed indefinitely on the sidelines to watch—on occasion he’s run an errand for Light, but in terms of being actively involved the way Rem was, it’s not his MO. If it’s a new shinigami…and perhaps even the one with the original connection to Beyond Birthday—well, Kira would not hesitate to pick up a death note if he came across it lying on the forest floor, and given his proximity to us, it would be easy for him to tap us all with piece of the notebook to ensure we’d see the death god as well—and we’d be none the wiser. But there’s two very important details that would negate that theory: One, the 6 human-world notebooks are all accounted for. Though there is the possibility one of them has changed hands, or reverted back to another shinigami, there remains the issue of physical contact with the notebook in order to see a shinigami. What I saw on the screen last night in the cottage happened before Light came back from his excursion and would have been able to touch me with a new notebook. So while I would be happy to say our visitor is another death god, the evidence seems against it…”

L sighed. “Depending on the outcome of this one, remind me to congratulate Kira for thoroughly perplexing me… at least for now. Whatever the case, however, the percentages are in definite favor that Light knows much more about the situation than the rest of us do. The question is, how far has he planned in advance?”

And about that moment, L’s eyes zoomed to the monitor, and to the far corner screen that was suddenly empty. “Where is he?” he said.

* * *

Mello dumped the heavy book on the counter and immediately started rummaging through the fridge for the milk. There was a cup of hot cocoa that had his name on it—and hopefully came mixed with a fair share of sanity to boot. God knows he needed it. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be there when he popped back up with the milk in hand—and especially not expecting anyone to be there lurking in the dark shadows of the pantry to his right; so the sudden outline of a low figure crouching in the corner of his eye startled him, and he whirled. His alarm was interrupted however by the equally sudden appearance of Light to his left, and Mello didn’t know where to look first—but upon second glance the pantry was seemingly empty, and Light smiled that pleasant, smooth smile.

“Still jumpy?” he purred.

Mello scowled at him, and just to verify his sanity, moved to the pantry without a word and hit the light switch. Nothing. He frowned, and turned back around to where Kira was now leaning nonchalantly against the fridge, snug designer jeans, deliberately worn and faded in all the nice places, a half unbuttoned shirt, and bare feet, and that lovely sweep of layered hair. He had that golden glow back and looked amused that Mello was chasing shadows.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quaintly.

“Rubbish,” Mello muttered, “Of course you did.”

Light chuckled good naturedly, “Okay, so maybe it was a bit too tempting to resist. But you seemed appropriately spooked before I got here anyway.”

Mello frowned deeper, and proceeded to make his hot chocolate. Light turned up the charm, and that slow molten manner of his seemed to speak loud and clear of what he really came down to do.

Mello laughed at the understanding, and Light raised a haughty brow, leaning now against the counter beside him. “What?” he said, feigning ignorance.

“Nothing,” Mello replied, popping the cup in the microwave. When he turned back around to face his sly lover, Light was dangling something at him.

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he purred, sliding a loose square of paper onto the marble top beside the cocoa mix, “But in all the excitement, it slipped my mind.”

Mello glanced down and saw the name of his hit written neatly on the lined segment. Not only the name, but precise directions and time frame of his apparent death just last night at 1 am: throws himself from the rooftop of Santa Maria in Trastevere and dies on the pavement below.

Light folded his arms, as smug as ever. “It doesn’t escape me that you and L are getting Kira to do your dirty work, but I suppose given the circumstances, there was no other way for you to carry out this particular task.” He faced Mello squarely, and with that full-blown delightfully insufferable attitude simply purred, “You’re welcome.”

Mello lifted a brow at him, already far too familiar and used to the magnitude of Kira's presence to be intimidated by it. In fact, the blonde cast him a bemused smile and turned to fetch the warmed milk from the microwave. "Wasn't in my top choice of methods," he said, returning to the spot to prepare the cocoa with an exuberant helping of the mix. "But thank you, either way." And then he grinned, shrugging. "I suppose we're even—I hardly approved of the methods, you could care less for the cause." With some luck it would also be the first and last time he would have to resort to such means. Mello took a sip, eying Light over the rim of the mug. And then he abruptly changed the topic. "You look better," Mello commented, doing little to hide his appreciation of Light’s beauty before once again turning away to retrieve a box of biscuits from the pantry.

“I feel better,” Light simpered.

“Miraculous recovery, eh?” Mello muttered. “Last night’s breakdown help?”

Light shrugged, and at just the right angle his shirt was unbuttoned low enough to reveal that golden, taut patch of smooth skin. He very much seemed to appreciate Mello openly admiring. “Maybe there’s something to that chemical imbalance theory?” He offered nonchalantly, and then amber eyes were flickering up through lowered lids, “Or maybe killing people helps that much more.”

“Disturbing observation,” Mello returned flatly. “Can’t quite dismiss it though, you’re obviously in a much better mood.”

Light chuckled, turning to saunter over to the opposite counter. “Like a junkie for a fix,” he joked, and Mello’s eyebrow went up. Funny to hear Kira refer to his divine ambition that way. The almighty idealist was becoming greatly jaded in an altogether different sort of way. Mello picked up his snack and rather than retreating to his room as he’d planned, set his biscuits and cocoa down on the counter beside his rather cumbersome text.

Light glanced up at him through a feathery smudge of lashes. “L’s fucking Linda again,” Kira announced. “He turned the study cameras off—seems the threat of B does not take priority over the warm supple thighs of a pretty, blonde 19-year old.” And he winked at Mello.

“Bloody Christ!” Mello cursed, thankful that he had not taken that moment to sip his cocoa. That was not a mental image he had needed at that precise moment whether or not he had witnessed it through quite expensive, high resolution cameras or not. The fact that he had just been shooed from the study and had managed to keep the thought at bay until Light casually pointed it out to him made it all the worse. In fact, it brought up the outrage that had been clouded by shock hours earlier. “Just what the fuck is he thinking?!” he burst out and bit into a biscuit seconds later. Not as satisfying as the snap of chocolate, but tasty nevertheless.

Mello truly wanted to believe that whatever was going on in the study was something other than Linda being fucked on any given flat surface because goddamnit, L was not so careless! Shit. Mello shook his head, scowling incoherently under his breath. “You sound positively elated by the recent development,” he pointed out with an appropriate grit of annoyance. “I thought you’d wanted her for yourself.”

“Greatly amused,” Light corrected, “Maybe a little proud of the bastard—had I realized L was going to take the initiative it might have been a rather fun race between us to see who got her first, but,” and he shrugged, “he went stealth before any of us realized he was serious.” Light laughed, all the more because the WTF expression on Mello’s face was priceless.

* * *

Linda gaped at the screen, and L cocked his head. “Well it’s nice to know he’s still an insufferable bastard,” the detective muttered—the two of them listening in on the conversation. “But if he thinks we’re otherwise engaged, then he thinks one or both of us is not paying attention to the monitors—all the more reason to pay attention closely.”

Linda winced, and L had climbed over the back of the couch to plant himself next to her, hunched close to the monitors to study Light’s every nuance. Must have felt like old times.

“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Linda managed just then—mustering that one surge of courage in her own defense.

L turned a vacant expression on her. “About what?” he said. She knew he was playing dumb and she frowned.

“…About earlier,” she said, and she sounded as wounded as she felt just then, unable to meet his gaze once the words were out. Stupid, Linda, she chastised herself—stupid, stupid, stupid.

“No, he’s not,” L replied rather bluntly.

Linda sighed, crooking her gaze completely away from him so he wouldn’t see her eyes welling up with tears. Goddamnit, not now—she couldn’t wilt like a little girl on him now. It was just sex. That’s all it was, he probably expected her to understand that…

“It’s okay,” she managed, but her voice was cracking, “I understand—I,”

“Linda,” and L’s smooth voice was coupled with the warm touch of his fingers against her cheek, turning her head to face him. The vacant look was gone, instead he looked every bit as smart, and dark and insightful as he truly was, and just as she blinked the first tear away—blooming on her lashes and rolling down her cheek—L leaned in and captured her lips softly in his own…

* * *

“I’m actually surprised you haven’t reamed him out for it,” Light purred, leaning on his hand, that honeyed, come-hither gaze fixed on his lover.

“Oh, I fuckin’ plan to,” Mello replied, snapping the biscuit again, and a rainfall of crumbs hit his shirt—not quite the same effect as the chocolate, and Light laughed, sliding out of his seat to saddle up closer to Mello.

“You’re making a bit of a mess there,” he murmured, brushing the crumbs away.

Mello’s face pinched, and Light only smiled with elevated satisfaction. “It’s cute,” he declared.

“Cute?!” Mello’s one eye went wider than the other, cute was an insult to his reputation.

But Light had crossed that barrier of personal space, and his smile said everything it needed to—he leaned in, close enough to kiss, but neglected to make the contact—instead breathing Mello in, delighting in their proximity, the way Mello anticipated him, and Light used that moment to slowly sink down to his knees…

It was a smooth transition from WTF-caliber outrage, to burgeoning sense of anticipation at the proximity of those lush lips. A pleasant surprise actually, as Light descended, hands alighting at Mello’s waist and Mello arched an eyebrow but did not question just where this initiative had come from. It did not escape him, however, that they stood in the middle of the kitchen—and granted, it was the middle of the night and there was a small chance that no one would be watching the screens, or walking in anytime soon—but there was still a chance they would. The moment leather laces were tugged at with expert ease, however all concerns tumbled out the window and Mello spared Light a crooked grin, hands falling to the edge of the counter on either side of him.

This was a sight that he had not seen in a while, and one that he had most definitely missed. The little bastard was playing, however, long fingers inching upward to pry Mello’s shirt open. He heard the distinctive sound of a button clattering to the floor nearby. No dignity, then. Very well. Leather was parted and those lush lips came so close, Light’s breath hot against Mello’s abdomen, sinking lower to brush that whorish mouth along the line of a hip. Mello grit his teeth, exercising enough control to keep those hands on the counter a little while longer.

Light gave a wicked little chuckle to prove he was teasing quite deliberately, extending the tip of his tongue to that sensitive area beneath Mello’s belly button—the warm sensation forced a ragged groan from Mello’s throat, and his fingers clenched against the countertop. Light grinned and peeled the leather back further, freeing the strong, thick column of Mello’s turgid length.

Mello caught his own lip between white teeth as Kira’s hot breath broke across the sensitive flesh. The air jammed hard in his throat, his eyes rolling closed, head tilting back for just a moment as Light’s plaint lips brushed the tip of Mello’s pulsating sex. God it had been a long time since he’d gotten head from Light—since he’d seen Kira on his knees—and Mello’s grin split his expression, his gaze drawn headily down to the all-too sexual image.

“Take your shirt off,” he ordered gruffly, feeling terribly superior in that moment.

Light heard the cocky inflection, and complied wantonly, loosening the buttons, letting the shirt fall to the floor. Golden skin revealed, Mello couldn’t abstain the perverse thought of cumming on it—of claiming Kira’s body by shaming him so thoroughly. But the bastard would most likely take it at that moment if Mello so pleased—he’d take just about anything then, and it was tantalizing to think of bending Kira over the counter and fucking him senseless.

Instead, Mello grabbed a fistful of auburn hair, yanking Light’s head to his will, the blonde palmed his own erection, taking full command of the situation, even though Kira’s eyes were coy and baiting, and oh so very seductive as he allowed Mello to bring the tip of his sex to Light’s mouth, wetting his lips with that glistening slick of precum, which Light licked away gratefully.

That was enough to make Mello groan in earnest, and in that moment, Light eagerly swallowed him down—his cheeks hollowing as he sucked Mello’s length in hard and delectably, and Mello just went weak in the knees, to the point that he had to use his other hand to support himself.

Goddamnit, he’d forgotten how good Light was at this…

Any interruptions that might have surged at that point would likely end up eating a bullet as Mello shuddered, gritting his teeth against the groans of pleasure that threatened to spill from his lips with each trick of that talented tongue and sharp suck upon his sex.

Rome, he remembered through a haze. It had been in Rome, while in the comfort of their little flat that he last had the pleasure of such erotic ministrations. It had been different then, but the game was the same. That, at least, had not changed between them. The constant battle for control, although Mello almost had to wonder if Light automatically always did win. The blonde might have taken control of the situation just then, but it had been Light’s initiative that unraveled him; the look in those eyes, the smile upon those lips, the promise of delight.

Mello’s mind was a blur. Sharp gasps tumbling over his lips, his fingers impossible glued on the edge of the counter, supporting himself as best he could against Light’s all too talented abilities. At last Kira was rewarded for his hard work as Mello trembled, fist suddenly tightening into smooth auburn locks as he choked his climax—hard relentless—surging. And God, the greedy bastard swallowed him down to the very last drop, which left Mello breathless and positively uneasy upon his feet.

Light smiled at his accomplishment, sliding back up to stand against Mello’s wilting body, his handsome face was flushed, eyes inked darkly with want, lips slick—oh so whorishly slick, and despite Mello’s all too glorious euphoria, which had him beaming like a fool, it was clear Kira was not going to let him go so easily—his body was hot and delicious against his spent lover, and Mello only naturally slid a hand to that delectable nude curve of Light’s hip.

“You alright?” Light purred—sexy—sexy as hell.

“Gimme a moment,” Mello muttered, still very much pleased.

Light arched a devilish eyebrow. “And then?”

“I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

As if there was any other possibility. But first, he would drink that damned cocoa. In fact, he practically made a show of sipping it down, sharp greens intent on his lover’s devilish features. He pressed bodily against Light’s slightly taller frame as he turned to dump the empty mug into the sink. And then, unexpectedly shoved a biscuit into his mouth. “Wait for me in my study,” Mello purred, casting him a sidelong glance over a half-bare shoulder.

That was when Light’s gaze turned absolutely wicked. “No,” he purred.

Mello arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” Kira reiterated. “I want you here.” And to illustrate his point, he stretched out forward like a lazy cat across the counter, sultry gaze crooked over that smooth, golden shoulder, pants loose around those lovely, fuckable hips.

A pale brow was lifted because goddamnit, he was good and Mello was tracing the smooth curves of Light’s back with his eyes in lustful appreciation. “Tch…” he reprimanded turning to fully face his lover. His gait was deliberate as he approached, a lone hand running up the length of Light’s spine with just enough pressure to cause Light to arch like a cat, head tilting ever slightly as a small flirtatious grin spread across his lips. The firm caress turned more dangerous, as blunt nails carved their way across Kira’s shoulders and tangled then into his hair. Mello yanked his lover’s head back as he leaned forward, draping casually over that all too inviting body. “And what makes you think you have the final say?” he whispered into his ear.

Light chuckled, like a sultry little fiend—“Because you like the thought of fucking me on the counter,” he said, “here in the open, where anyone could walk in—You want to see my body arch at this angle, you want me to hold on,” and he curled his long fingers over the edge of the counter, stretching those beautiful limbs, “Like this,” and his voice had lowered to a ragged, alluring whisper, “While you grab my hips and fuck me with abandon—controlling me from above, seeing every movement, every thrust, watching your body inside mine…”

Mello’s jaw would have likely made a dive for the floor if he wasn’t so quick to catch it. This was above and beyond Light’s usual games, however, which left him momentarily stunned and most definitely aching for more. “You are in a good mood…” he breathed and clawed four red lines down his lover’s back as punishment – or reward – for his dirty mouth. Mello’s lips clamped down then on the crook of Kira’s neck and shoulder, hand already sliding around to press against his abdomen, etching his mark there too. It had been far too long since Kira had been appropriately marked.

Light hissed and keened brokenly, his voice doing amazing things up and down Mello’s spine, melting through his loins like a shot of bourbon. He arched that glorious supple back, pushing himself into the crook of Mello’s pelvis, always that sumptuous wanton gaze sliding so very enticingly over his taut shoulder—Mello half expected him to start purring, especially as he sucked the skin deeper, bruising it black, listening hungrily to the sharp erotic gasping emanating from Light’s lovely throat. He was positively whorish tonight—and if anything was indicative of his spectacular mood, it was his obvious display of perverse carnality now.

“Mello—” Light groaned, knowing the sort of reaction that always got from the blonde, his breathing deep and ragged, body undulating—the movements themselves pleading to be manhandled, debauched, utterly and completely fucked… it was seriously too late to consider anything beyond that moment—open room or not, surveillance be damned—fuck it all to hell, Mello’s concentration was on one thing and one thing only—the writhing of that smooth, golden body beneath his hands…

He exhaled deeply, breath hot against Kira’s marred flesh. It would look worse in the morning, it always did. A rake of nails down his back landed his hands at the soft fabric of already loose pants, which were yanked down firmly, Mello kicking Light’s feet apart, he shoved Kira’s body down. His lover went without complaint, delighting the blonde with another delicious groan as he was pressed to the cool surface, hands straining across the marble top, silky bangs falling haphazardly across his eyes.

Bastard, Mello thought vehemently and without so much as a heads up or warning, impaled him intimately with one decisive thrust. He grit his teeth at the impossible tightness of Light’s body, fingers digging into narrow hips. Beneath him Light keened marvelously, whatever pain he felt set aside with the promise of pleasure to come.

Mello thrust again, and it was so worth the sharp intake of breath that rattled Kira, the near-growl of agonizing ecstasy as Mello stroked his firm grip up and down Light’s flanks, guiding his body back, hard into Mello’s impaling sex—ripping the groans from Light’s throat, riding him mercilessly—and watching every satisfying, perverse display of flesh disappearing into flesh… god it was a fucking power trip if ever there was one…

And those sounds – god those sounds would drive anyone mad with pleasure, as if the activities weren’t enough to get Mello’s heart racing and his breath jagged and short. Fucking Kira was always a thrill, always exhilarating. Far from healthy as far as the rest of the world was concerned, but nevertheless downright amazing. With each powerful thrust Light groaned a crescendo, only enhanced as Mello firmly grasped Kira’s cock jerking it mercilessly, watching pleasure spread across flushed features and Light whimpered. He was the delightful little whore trapped against the counter demanding more, body moving in conjunction with each thrust of the blonde’s hips, making the impact all the harder and no doubt more painful. That was all right. Mello could deliver. The near-mewling half-stifled cries of his lover however, spoke of more than just pain—it was fucking ecstasy and it wasn’t long before white exploded behind Mello’s eyes for the second time that night. He held Kira close as he spilled hotly within him, his grip tightening into warm flesh; Light’s hips would doubtlessly show the tell-tale marks of the night’s rough activities tomorrow.

Nevertheless, Light came hard in Mello’s hand, gasping and writhing and sounding just utterly debauched and pornographic, until he collapsed quite boneless against the counter in a sated flush of breathless laughter. Mello wilted on top of him, damp forehead pressed between Light’s shoulder blades-between those scars of his. Mello couldn’t help the stifled laughter either, slightly giddy with glowing pleasure, slightly more exhausted—even though his lips continued to trail a grateful path over Light’s skin—savoring the exotic taste, the warmth, the feel. He relished enjoying Light’s body—savoring the curves beneath his palms—the taut contours of lean muscle, the sharp angles of his hips and back. If Mello didn’t know any better, he’d say he was worshiping Kira’s lovely form just then—sated with sex, but still hungry to just feel him, that fuzzy floating pleasure of being pressed against him, inside him…

It was barely in the midst of this lazily erotic display that Mello noticed how still Light had gone beneath him, how calmly his body rose and fell with breath, and when he risked a glance upward at Light’s face, wondering if Kira had actually fallen asleep on him, prostrate as he was against the counter top, did he see Light’s narrow gaze set on the kitchen doorway—rather triumphantly.

Mello’s own gaze followed before he allowed himself to do the math—Matt was there. How long he’d been standing there, Mello had no idea—long enough to watch his lover caress and adore Kira so scandalously against the kitchen counter? Long enough to have seen them fucking? Mello wasn’t sure—he wasn’t sure of anything just then; but something told him Light was anticipating this outcome—had wanted it, had been waiting for it, and was now quite elated it was here.

Kira stifled a victorious chuckle as Matt’s gaze tossed barbs in Mello’s direction, and Mello was at a loss for the proper reaction.

“You gonna stay there all bloody night?” the redhead muttered, empty coffee mug in hand.

Ah, how to go about this. There was truly no graceful way. Mello leaned up, thinking at first to extricate himself from Kira’s body discretely, he suddenly decided that he wasn’t about to be pushed around this way by either of them. So he pulled out nonchalantly, using a nearby dishtowel to clean up, and Matt was even more disgruntled to see Mello take this approach, as Light straightened, still terribly amused, and not so successfully hiding his haughty laughter behind the back of his hand.

“I don’t know what you find so funny,” Matt muttered, “You’re the bloody whore in this situation.”

Light’s expression widened in mock-insult, but in far more amusement that Matt had just called him a whore—and he laughed in earnest. Apparently nothing could put Kira in a bad mood tonight, not even a slur like that. “You’re just jealous he’s fucking me and not you,” he ribbed rather pettily—he meant it pettily too, because if Kira wanted to truly insult, he knew how to pull out all the stops. Nevertheless, Matt’s eyes flashed dangerous beneath the yellowed lens of his goggles.

“Mello can stick his cock up any arse he likes,” he retorted, being crass on purpose, his gaze absently drinking in Kira’s unabashed nudity with mild disdain. “It’s this bloody nauseating coddling that follows that makes me want to vomit.”

“Oh is that it?” Light laughed, “Feeling left out of the pillowtalk?” He feigned seriousness just barely, “It’s that whole used feeling, isn’t it? It’s that deep-seated need for you to use the word ‘whore’ because that’s what y—”

Light didn’t exactly get a chance to finish that philosophical statement, because Matt flew at him, and this time, Mello was too far away. But considering his behavior, it certainly did seem like Kira was baiting this particular outcome quite deliberately, and he was still laughing when Matt slammed him against the far wall, and all too quickly hauled off and decked him across the face before the opportunity passed him by.

Light’s head whipped to the side, there was of course a hiccup in his amusement at that moment, but despite it, (and the blood suddenly trickling down over his lips), he started chuckling again—unaffected—just to piss Matt off further.

Matt saw red, still pressing Light firmly into the wall—he was weighing the option of tearing Kira’s head off just then, which was when Light pulled the move of a lifetime, and unexpectedly grabbed Matt by the face and pulled him into a hard and punishing kiss that was by no means, easy to escape from…

Already cursing himself for having been so careless, Mello was about to break them up when he came to a dead halt, equally taken back by Light's reaction as Matt must have been. In fact, he saw the widening of his eyes behind the tinted lenses, the uncertainty of how to react because just then—he had not been prepared for such a thing. Neither of them were.

Sex. Kira tasted of sex and it was not hard to deduce why. The redhead was frozen in place. Of course there was always the option of biting the bastard to sever the forceful kiss, but the thought did not immediately cross Matt’s mind. In fact, it was several seconds before Matt reacted at all, hands rising—one wrapping around Kira's wrist, yanking it away to slam against the wall, the other grasping the git's jaw with bruising pressure at last freeing himself with a furious scowl.

It was at that precise moment that Mello caught himself staring a bit perplexed at the two. Why had he never noticed the similarities in their features? How typical—here they were about to kill one another and the blonde stood there appreciating the view. It certainly helped (or didn't, depending on one's perspective) that Light was still very much shirtless and debauched, trousers loose and low upon his hips, mussed hair brushing bruised shoulders and neck and Matt was in his usual state of casual appeal—the black tee fitted and displaying the dark tribal sleeves that had been inked into either arm from wrist to elbow. His stance stiff, while Light's still emanated overbearing sexuality, leaning as he was against the wall as casually as if he had placed himself there to begin with.

"Alright!" Mello moved forward to salvage the situation a second time. "Break it the fuck up, already." He took Matt by the shoulder, tugging him backward until he had no choice but to release Kira, who was still too goddamned delighted by the turn of events. "Matt, chill out... and you quit being a bleedin' git," he said pointedly to Light, who flashed him a sultry smile and look of mock innocence through those heavy lashes and half-lowered lids of his. "Bloody hell," Mello scowled. "I mean it."

Beside him Matt was shaking with barely contained rage. "I don't even know why you fuckin' bother." But he did know, and that was the problem. It had been infuriating when Mello was simply fucking Kira without any strings attached. But there was more to it now. There were emotions attached on either side that made it so much worse because now it felt like betrayal, even though Matt knew better—or thought he did. The redhead's general state of indifference was not so steadily in place as far as this particular arrangement was concerned. Granted, Kira's antagonizing efforts certainly did not help matters - the bastard knew he had won in a regard. He knew he could get under Matt's skin in the worse way possible.

"Matt, don't," Mello told him quietly. "You're better than this, come on..."

“Yeah?” Matt returned forcefully, “Well, so are you—and so is L—we’re all better than this,” and he was referring to Light personally; “But look what he’s done to us.” To emphasize the point he spat the debauched taste of Kira from his mouth, and the fact that the bastard was bold enough to pull such a maneuver had the rage crawling fiercely over the back of his neck.

Matt glared into Mello’s face: “What is wrong with you?” he grit, lowly, almost inaudibly. The tone took Mello aback long enough for him to miss whatever it was Kira slipped into the conversation that had Matt suddenly whirling with the intent to kill—the redhead’s fist was thrown back into the air, and Mello had to tackle him; but Matt was seemingly on steroids at that moment, because he was harder to hold back than ever.

He had Kira on the floor, and the three of them were suddenly heaped in the sort of flailing pile Mello used to cause all the time in the Wammy recess yard—a freaking melee between them—fists flying, hands reaching for throats, eyes, hair—and in the past, it was always Roger or one of the stronger handlers who had to pry fighting children apart; the inevitably solid grip that tore the three of them away at that moment of course belonged to L.

He managed to separate them swiftly and effectively, tearing Mello back to slam against the wall, grabbing Matt in a submission maneuver to pull him off of Kira, who he kept in place on the floor with an immobile foot.

“Enough,” and the detective’s tone had a very take-no-prisoners feel to it; wielding the sort of intimidation factor orphans used to scatter from during their youth.

Mello had stopped the moment he realized L was there, Matt took a bit more to calm down—but L didn’t release him until he did, and Kira—looked quite vindicated. Precisely how L anticipated he’d look because he just got what he completely wanted—all three of them away from their stations and in the same room not paying attention to anything else…

Even with Linda still in the study keeping watch, L was not so confident she’d see the same things he would, which meant he was going to have to re-view the footage directly after this…

Nevertheless L and Kira’s gazes met, and L pulled him off the floor, shoving him back against the wall. The detective didn’t say anything to alert the other two directly of what he already knew about the situation—that this was all a diversion tactic so their friend inside could move more freely about with less risk of being seen—but his eyes communicated that notion to Kira on a whole different level, and Kira’s own gaze could scarcely keep from flashing with amusement that L was on to him. None of it, however, leveled Kira’s good mood.

The diversion was working all too well and although Mello had already half-guessed that the whole scenario had been all too brilliantly orchestrated for a reason, he did not know what that reason could be. Truth be told, Light's tactics against Matt had flip-flopped all too abruptly not to be noted. What was meant by it Mello could not even begin to guess but it was troublesome all the same. It created more problems than he cared to deal with, but what other choice was there? He remained there, scowling but leaning against the wall where L had previously pushed him, breath calming, thundering pulse leveling.

Matt, however, still looked furious and just about ready to kill. The goggles were pulled off and over his head as he turned away from the scene, not wanting to even look at Kira for the sake of letting himself cool off. Because just then, he'd probably risk getting decked by L himself if it meant getting another blow in. The redhead stood before the sink, hands against the counter as he stared down at the stainless steel surface intently, teeth grit, the tension evident between his shoulders. It was even worse because he knew - goddamnit he knew it! - that Kira was baiting him. He'd been baiting him from the get go when he realized he could get through Matt's otherwise impassive attitude. The buttons were pushed and kept being pushed. Their constant close proximity surely did not help the matter. Matt hissed a curse under his breath and let his eyes fall shut, forcing himself to cool the hell down. He wasn't worth this. As far as Matt was concerned, Kira was only worth the effort it would take to get rid of him once and for all.

"Come on..." Mello was saying, appearing at his lover's side.

"Give me a minute," the redhead grit out and Mello noticed the involuntary twitch of fingers against the marble top. It had been a long time since he'd seen the redhead this angry, but he supposed he should have expected it - the situation had been building for weeks without any release. The fact that Light was only intensifying his attack did not bode well because Matt was truly at the boiling point. Mello grimaced.

“Everyone is going back to exactly what they are supposed to be doing,” L said firmly, and though he still had Light blocked off against the wall, his sharpened gaze shot to Matt and Mello. The blonde caught the jarring look, which seemed to pierce right through him for the sake of making a point, and he took Matt by the shoulder, holding up a hand to assuage L, who seemed intent on having a moment alone with Kira.

Mello had barely dragged Matt out of ear-range when the detective turned his attention to his lover-nemesis. “I want you in your room, and if I see you move at all, I’m handcuffing you to the bed, do you understand?”

Light blinked at him slowly like a bored cat. “Whatever you say,” he replied, too nonchalant in the face of L’s obvious anger. The detective’s gaze narrowed even more—a veritable red flag that Kira was on thin ice.

“Are you going to escort me?” Light tested, raising an eyebrow. “Make sure I behave?”

“Yes,” came L’s abrupt reply, and he grabbed Light by the shoulder, pulling him away from the wall and shoving him in front to march him back upstairs and into the bedroom. Light was amused, having pulled on his discarded shirt, ready to settle in and gloat about his victory—and whatever larger victory it heralded that L was too aware he still didn’t understand. He was definitely hearing a clock ticking somewhere—it no longer seemed a question that Kira was planning something, but rather, that he’d already done it, and was waiting for the effects to roll out—but what was it he was up to? And how had he pulled it off?

L’s expression was dark, in fact, he was downright glowering, and as Light sat casually on the bed to watch him, L wasted no time seizing that golden wrist and snapping a pair of cuffs around it, which were then quickly clamped to the metal frame of the bed.

Light’s jaw dropped, L cut him off before he even had a chance to protest. “I lied,” the detective said grimly, but leaned in close all the same. “Cause a problem now, and you go into solitary—there’s a cell with your name on it in the basement.”

* * *

Linda had watched the entire exchange—which unfortunately had interrupted far too intimate a moment the second L caught sight of what was going on. The fact that he’d just up and left her the way he did and was able to go out there and knock the three of them around only spoke of his intense endurance capabilities—because any other man in the knot of passion they’d been enjoying probably would have let Mello and Matt and Light kill each other in lieu of seeing that sex thing through to completion.

Linda was feeling rather fidgety and unsatisfied and highly uncomfortable, made to stay on the couch and keep watch, but it was clear L’s mind had switched gears—at least insofar as he was handcuffing Kira to the bed and threatening his mobile freedom. The chain was long enough for Light to move about the room to some degree, but by no means was he going anywhere farther unless he planned on dragging the entire bed with him.

L stormed out the moment the deed was done, and Linda’s gaze followed his figure through the screens, briefly alighting on Matt and Mello in the other study, getting into a rather heated discussion. L seemed to perk as he passed, catching the sound of their argument, but not stopping to pay it any attention, when he at last re-entered the room.

“Please back-track the footage to the rest of the house just now,” he ordered without so much as an ‘I’m sorry for leaving you flat and unsatisfied,’ Linda chided herself for hoping he’d make it up to her , as she jumped to comply with his order. As was his way, L climbed into the couch and perched intently to focus on the screens, barely noticing as Linda lay a comforting hand on the toned shoulder beneath his signature cotton shirt. It was possible his grating irritability was due to being interrupted as well, since he rarely exhibited so fierce a temper otherwise—but L was certain Kira was up to something, and the notion he’d dropped the ball on that front was making him rather prickly.

* * *

“Care to tell me what all this is about?” Mello said rather bluntly, probably not the best approach at that moment.

“Do I even have to tell you?!” Matt exploded, whirling around to face his lover with such ferocity it would have made anyone else back down. The blonde watched him sternly, however, his features guarded, which only meant there was more going on in that genius mind of his than he let on. “And before you even dare call this jealousy—and I’ll knock you on your fucking arse if you do—it’s not. I’ve told you before Mell, I don’t give a shit who you fuck so long as it does not compromise everything else!”

“Compromise…you think this has compromised us?” Mello retorted, tone cold, detached.

“Tell me something, Mihael,” Matt shot back, impassive to the way his lover’s eyes narrowed. “Or are you too blind to fucking see it anymore—don’t you find it strange, the miraculous recovery, the fact that I’m now a perfect target when the bloody cunt had always pretended I did not exist?” He paused, letting the words sink in. “He’s got you and L’s favor, he’s been jerkin’ you both around and Linda might as well be added to the list. The innocent bullshit doesn’t sell with me, and whatever he’s up to, you’re both missing it. All of this,” he swept a hand, irritated. “Was not for the simple enjoyment of midnight entertainment. There’s a fuckin’ purpose to it!” He paused again, catching his breath and went on even though Mello seemed poised to interrupt. “Three months ago I would have trusted my life in your hands as far as Kira was concerned. Right now, there’s no fucking way!”

The words cut deep and Mello reeled, eyes widening ever slightly as the obvious hurt rippled across his features. He clamped down on them however. “How can you even say that?”

Red brows shot up. “I still remember quite well looking down the barrel of your gun while that git was going barkin’ mad.”

Mello grimaced but did not deny it. “You actually think I would protect him over you?”

“No,” the redhead stated dully, lighting up. “But I do not believe you would shoot to kill him should it come down to it. Not unless something happened to one of us first.”

Which in essence meant the same. The blonde swallowed dryly, brows furrowing as he stepped toward Matt, eyes piercing. Intent. “You’re wrong.” He hissed in his lover’s face and crossed to his desk where he paused, hands alighting on the wooden surface otherwise so cluttered with that week’s work.

“You’re losing yourself,” Matt muttered several minutes later just when it seemed they were quite finished. He sounded much closer, standing right behind Mello’s stiffened form. “You’ve changed and even though it has been good and gotten you this far, there is more to it. I once simply asked that you would not become like L, and you’re headed straight in that direction. I just wonder, Mell, how hard you’ll have to fall before having to pick up the pieces.”

Mello spared a hesitant glance over a shoulder; green eyes partially obstructed by jagged bangs.

“And no,” the redhead continued as if able to read his lover’s mind. “You’re not pushing me away. At least not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not givin’ up on you because you’re being an arsehole—you’ve always been an arshole, Mell, you simply have varying degrees of offence.”

“Thanks,” the blonde muttered dryly, looking away.

“I owe you my life, Mell—you’ve gotten me out of nasty spots and have practically supported me for years when you did not have to do that. I told you before that I’d follow you to the end, and I meant that. And no, we did not actually believe that we’d live to see it to this day but it’s happened, so whether you like it or not, you’ll have to deal with my presence just a tad bit longer.”

Mello actually laughed, it was short and bitter, but nevertheless there.

“But for the love god, get a hold of yourself!” Matt hissed, coming closer. “You do what you need to do, but don’t you dare get dragged into his depths. You’ve got enough on your shoulders to deal with as-is.”

“Since when have you become the inspirational speaker, Matt?”

“Bruising his face has always made me feel better.”

There was a rather insistent pounding on the door just then, jarring them both out of their quarrel. It was very much out of character for most people in the house, save Kira, which was why Matt made it to the door first, ripping it open with the full intent to deck the bloody bastard—but his violence deflated the second he was face to face with an equally irritable L. The detective’s hard gaze leveled Matt on the spot, then shifted from him to Mello and back again.

“We’re searching the house now,” L said sternly. “Arm yourselves.”