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Fifty Days	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Het-Male/Female > L/Misa Views: 2868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
CHAPTER 6: Day Six
L woke to Misa's voice and her hand shaking his shoulder. At first he was so out of it he couldn't even understand what she'd said.
Then she repeated, "You've been asleep for eighteen hours. Are you okay?"
Eighteen hours! By L's standards, five was a lot of sleep. L was still groggy, and when he tried to raise his head it throbbed, so he dropped it again. Every part of him felt just dead. He was weak and worn out, his muscles sore, his nose running, a dull pain in his belly and guts.
He said, "I'm sick, Misa."
His voice was scratchy and cracking.
L swallowed, and the motion was painful. His throat felt very dry. Well, he hadn't drunk water in nearly a day. L wondered what had happened. Had he caught some bug, or had his body simply been pushed too hard and then decided to rebel by collapsing? He found that he didn't really care. He just wanted to go back to sleep. The soft bed under him was so nice.
Misa shook his shoulder again. "Hey! Hey! Are you all right?"
L did not want to get strapped to that metal frame again. He was far too stressed to deal with it yet. He said nothing, and snuggled weakly into the bed. Then Misa was gone, her quick little footsteps receding. L felt his consciousness slipping away. The next thing he knew, Misa was waking him and pushing him into a sitting position. His head did not like being upright. It throbbed and he rested it on Misa's shoulder.
Misa said, "Lift your head. I've got water. You need to take it at the right angle or you'll choke."
L brought his head up, and the opening of a bottle was being pushed to his lips. He gulped a few times. The motion of the water slipping down his throat was painful. He knew he needed it, so he kept at it, and the pain lessened. Then, he was gulping more and more of the water, greedily, until the bottle was gone.
Misa receded once more, letting L drift almost completely to sleep, and then she made him sit up and said, "Be careful when you eat this. I have soup."
He felt a spoon being pressed to his lips, and he slurped delicately. It was warm and felt very nourishing, a soothing presence as it trickled down his throat. There were a few noodles in it, but it was mostly broth. Misa fed him one spoonful after another, until his belly felt stretched and warm, and he lay down again, refusing more. She stroked his hair very gently as he drifted back to sleep.
She woke him several more times, each time with more water and soup that she carefully hand-fed to him. L was a little bit better, but he was still so very exhausted. He was feeling that strange gratitude toward Misa again, for feeding him and granting him his most intense fantasy of as late: actually being allowed to relax in a bed for a long time.
He tried to tell himself it was just a psychological response that captives tended to feel towards any merciful gesture. He tried to tell himself that, if Misa hadn't taken him captive, the simple pleasures of eating and lounging in bed would be things he could easily give himself, and not anything special. Besides, it was possible his speech about male fertility had made an impression on her, and she was just trying to secure her chances of getting pregnant.
L had enough presence of mind to occasionally ask Misa about the time. He was still determined to keep track of the days. Certain parts of his plans were better suited to particular stages in his captivity. During the fourth meal of soup, L asked Misa to write down what he told her, and he heard scratching on paper as he gave her the information for accessing his bribery account that would trigger a message to send help, but not right away.
That action seemed to convince Misa he was better enough for sex, and soon she had pressed herself to his back as he lay curled up on his side. Misa was placing soft kisses along the side of his neck and slowly working her hands underneath his skirt. L did not feel strong enough or well enough, but he didn't want to undo his work of using sex and romance to try to get some influence with Misa, so he made some mumbling noises that he hoped communicated attraction to her and extreme sleepiness at the same time.
Misa didn't stop, but only became more insistent. Soon she had pushed him onto his back and was stroking his penis with her busy hands, teasing him to full hardness. L felt so sick and weak, but he was getting into it, he couldn't help it. Misa's hands were very skilled. He tried to think of them as being completely detached from her body, disembodied magic floating hands, and with that fantasy he hardened even more, his erection straining, sensitive.
That was when Misa plunged completely onto him with a feminine little grunt. L let out a cry at the intense feeling of sinking into her so fast and then being entirely enclosed within her. She only gave the slightest pause before she was raising and lowering herself repeatedly, sending surging excitement and shame through L. His instincts told him to move up into her, to meet her downward motions. His thrusts upward were weak and made his muscles shake. Soon he couldn't do them at all, but just lay there while Misa continued to work at him, building the pleasure within. He couldn't do anything. He felt helpless and used.
It took longer than ever before, but the excitement was gradually overpowering the burden of his exhaustion, and at last he found himself with his head thrown back, rocking his hips as he spurted into Misa. She was still sliding up and down as the waves of pleasure moved through him, building his climax to an exquisite pitch, pumping out everything he had. It felt so good, and so sinful. He was using her and being used. He was a murderer just like her. It was all so awful, that they should be here like this, sharing pleasure for such a dirty, evil purpose. Torture, and murder, and corrupting an innocent little child into becoming yet another mass-murderer.
Afterwards, Misa was cuddlier than she'd ever been before, with almost non-stop cooing vocalizations and lots of rubbing against him. L tried to calculate just how much he needed to respond in order to not undo any of his work at getting on her good side, and did exactly that much. He was extremely drained, suffering from an incredible exhaustion. All of his muscles were sore, and every slightest movement now gave him a little twinge of nausea.
Misa seemed to notice his exhaustion and discomfort after a time, and her cuddling became less sexual and more motherly, until it at last transitioned to sitting beside him and stroking his hair in an incredibly delicate way. He liked it. He tried not to, but something about the action was just so calming and made him feel safe, protected. He tried to remind himself that Misa was the one he needed to be protected from. She wasn't his protector, but his enemy. Yet his emotions were scattered and disobedient; they weren't listening to logic. Calm and satisfied, he fell asleep like that, with Misa stroking his hair.
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- 7
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Fifty Days