Textbook Example

BY : wickedpistil
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8559
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Light always wore the nicest pants. He really did.

L liked the way they hugged at his slim, narrow hips, the way they creased so sharply, pressed so neatly. It made L want to wrinkle them. Because Kira most certainly was a sharp dresser. Yes. That was it.

L had visions of Kira waking early and going to his closet, carefully pulling a clean pair of trousers from their hanger, and laying them out on his bed in a very precise manner. And Light, of course would do the same thing.

From his convenient vantage point from the foot of Light's bed, L decided that Light was dressing in a very Kira-like manner at the moment. He'd turned his back, of course, when Light stripped off his pajama pants - a small gesture of courtesy in an uncomfortable situation - but he really longed to see what was underneath. Light's meticulous outer clothes were enough to tip L off, but he decided that it would be the underwear that sealed the deal.

If Light had nice undies, L's certainty of his partner in crime-stopping being Kira would jump up to around 94%.

But the question, now, was how to get into Light's pants.

Based on the number of dates Light had gone on when he was under L's careful surveillance, combined with the rumors that Light did happen to be quite popular with the ladies, L decided that it probably wouldn't be the most difficult thing he'd ever have to do. Light was probably very accustomed to intimate relations. Surely, L could slip it in somewhere between the coffee cake at noon and his 3 p.m. tea time.

*~*~*~*

Getting Into Light's Pants would be simple. L was sure of it. What to do once he got there...was another matter entirely.

He had, of course, had "that talk" when he was growing up. But Watari had been concise and matter-of-fact and didn't mention much more than what L absolutely needed to know. There were more important things; there were always more important things. L had neither the time nor the interest to bother with any extraneous information on his own.

But this was important. The very fate of the nation could depend upon the information he'd pursue in this investigation. L needed to evaluate Light's underwear.

So L did what was the logical thing to do in such a situation: he sent Matsuda to the library.

*~*~*~*

Matsuda's bottom lip had quivered upon the request and he had stared at L pleadingly, but, good subordinate that he was, he made a quick escape and returned with an armload of dusty textbooks and a deep, feverish blush. He muttered something about the women behind the circulation desk giggling as he walked away, a grown man with a sack of sex ed books in his hand. L sipped his tea and wiggled his toes.

The other officers asked no questions; they had learned not to. And they were savvy enough to find other things to "investigate" when L began his research.

*~*~*~*

Getting Into Light's Pants was easier than L had anticipated.

One of the perks of being the lead investigator on the Kira case was his opportunity to peer into the most private lives of the suspects, one of whom was Light Yagami. He knew Light's routine as intimately as he knew the rough feel of the hotel's couch fabric against the soles of his feet. He knew what time Light returned home from university classes, when he studied, when he mumbled to himself (it seemed to be a common trait of geniuses), and when he jerked off.

L had decided earlier in the day that this usually private period would be the best time to act. The books had suggested that Light may be the most easily persuaded during these times of heightened sexual awareness.

He sat in the hotel room, his spine curved over his bent knees, his toes poking at the chair cushion absently, and watched as Light finished the last few problems in his chemistry text. L picked absently at the crumbs remaining from his coffee cake, then he watched Light lean back on the couch, rest his palms on his knees, and bounce his heels up and down on the carpet. Excellent.

Light glanced nervously through a sports magazine - L had banned newspapers from his hotel room - and flipped through one of Misa's magazines, his nose wrinkled up in a combination of disgust and disbelief, before resigning himself into collapsing back into the couch cushion and sighing noisily.

L turned away to hide his smirk, swiveling his chair with a jerk of his knees. "Is something wrong, Yagami-kun?"

Light scowled and adjusted his pants discreetly.

After a few moments of awkward silence, L heard Light rise and he turned to see his prime suspect wander off in the general direction of his bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

Light put on a practiced frown, but he let a small blush dust across his cheekbones. "To take a nap."

L smiled his most innocent smile, the one that really meant trouble. "I'll go with you," he said, "I didn't sleep well last night."

L thought he heard the other boy mumbling something about "damned insomniacs never sleeping" under his breath.

"Actually, Ryuuzaki, I'd rather you didn't."

"Mm, that's awfully suspicious, Yagami-kun," L cooed, his smile still firmly in place.

Before Light could argue any further, L was slinking close behind him, hands in his pockets. Light's back stiffened at the pursuit, but he continued to stare straight ahead and entered the bedroom suite. L closed the door with a soft click and watched Light stand a few feet inside the room.

He looked...anxious. Like he wanted something. L knew very well what that was, but he refused to let on. He lowered himself onto the bed, pulled his knees up to his chest. Light looked a bit caged, like he wanted to pace, which wasn't what he really wanted to do; L knew that. He smiled innocently, turned his big eyes up at the other boy.

"It seems that pajamas would be appropriate for the occasion," he offered in his most gracious, practiced voice.

L watched with a smug satisfaction as Light's eyes darted briefly at the bathroom door before he turned reluctantly toward his closet. Light's sympathetic nervous system kicked into high gear, his vasodilators stimulated and causing adjacent capillaries to expand. The blush working its way up Light's neck and cheeks was very endearing.

Beta-adrenergic stimulation.

Really, L didn't think he was going to mind this stage of the investigation at all.

He had to admit, though, that he'd been expecting more of a fight.

It took him by surprise when Light turned to him, mouth drawn tightly to the sides in a manner that seemed to be daring L to challenge him, and pulled his shirt over his head. The motion was quick, revealing lean muscle and the ridges of ribs, a taut abdomen, a thin trail of light hair leading down from his navel...and a bold tent of trousers below the waistline.

Light stood, hands on hips, graceful bones of his pelvis half-exposed by drooping pants, and eyed L.

"Are you happy," he asked, a bit flustered, but brave, "do I have any privacy anymore?"

L ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, considering the situation, careful like always.

"What do you mean, Yagami-kun? You could have told me to leave if you needed some private time."

He'd read earlier that day how irritability often accompanied sexual frustration.

"You followed me in here!"

"Or you could have taken a shower."

"It's not like you wouldn't know what I was doing anyway!"

L smiled. "At any rate, you didn't have to take off your shirt. That was very bold," he paused, considered, "88%."

Light narrowed his eyes and leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well," he asked, "since you interrupted, are you going to take responsibility?"

*~*~*~*

Very easy, indeed.

It had, in fact, gone much more smoothly than any other part of the investigation.

Light's back was pressed against the dresser, the lamp on top rattling against the surface and their bodies moved against each other and L was convinced that only some of Light's movements were borne of protest.

L took note of how firm Light's body felt against his own. He hadn't been expecting it to feel so agreeable, but it would certainly make his job easier. It wouldn't help if Light suspected L was only doing this for the investigation. He moved his hands down Light's torso.

The high metallic 'clink' of Light's belt being unbuckled seemed to make him shiver. L took note and made a point to be noisy when he unzipped the crisp khaki trousers. Keeping his large, insomniac's eyes trained on Light's, watching his knit eyebrows, watching his bottom lip clamped between his teeth, red swelling around the soft flesh, L pressed his palms flat, fingers down, against Light's trembling abdomen (Myotonia, L reminded himself, remembering his reading.) and slid it downward. The trousers felt stiff against his fingers and the waistband of Light's underwear was...

Absent.

Oh. My.

L blinked, allowed his calculations to show in his expression for the briefest instant of time before continuing his hand's trek south.

Would Kira wear underwear? Of course he would. He was so routined, so meticulous, so deliciously exacting. It threw L off his rhythm for a moment. Why wouldn't he wear underwear? What did this mean?

Light moaned as L's hand closed around his hardened cock. Mm, L thought, vasocongestion.

According to the Masters-Johnson model of the Sexual Response Cycle, this was the "excitement" stage.

L paused for a moment, watched Light's face flush and his lips quiver and the way the boy's fingers were gripping at L's shirtfront. He frowned lightly. It would be terribly unscientific to stop things here, underwear or no.

He hadn't made time in his busy schedule for the sex-ed crash course for nothing. It would be a shame to let such newly acquired knowledge go to waste. It would be a good application of theory, if nothing else.

Slowly, L stroked his hand upward, thumbed the head of Light's length, found himself paying more attention to Light's wildly chaotic facial expressions than he did to the boy's genitals. He'd always found the Yagami boy attractive; with sweat shining on his nose and chin and cheekbones, and his hair sticking to his forehead, he was ethereal, divine enough to worship, were L into that sort of thing.

The hand pressing against L's chest, resisting, was weak, much weaker than anything associated with Light Yagami should ever be, and it was a bit sweaty. L tipped his head and flicked his tongue out at one of the fingers. Light trembled. The finger tasted salty.

L licked his lips, felt the heat of Light's erection against his palm. He squeezed as he slid his hand upward and the flesh gave just enough to make L take notice (corpus spongiosum). It was soft and velvety and the heat and weight of it in his hand made L wonder what it would feel like against his tongue.

He'd never really done anything like this before, had never thought about it. This was as new and exhilarating for him as Light's flush and parted lips were saying it was for the boy pressed against the chest of drawers. The lamp rattled against the wood surface some more as Light jerked his hips forward, forcing himself deeper into L's grip.

L found himself surprised that Light, his partner, his rival, was so willing to press against him, to let his breath become strained and hitched at these touches from another man. He shouldn't have been, though. He knew it. Because they were logical. Because sex was logical and biological and so utterly predictable, and did it really matter who got you off?

Almost to prove L's point, Light ducked his head to take the detective's earlobe between his teeth and tug in this painful, strange way that made L swallow thickly and move his hand faster on Light's erection. Light must have approved of the pace because a sticky fluid began to form a thick drop on the head of his cock and it smeared down the shaft and between L's fingers as he pumped his hand (Thank you, Cowper's glands.).

Clearly they had reached the "plateau" stage now. After a quick, shifty, stolen glance at Light's face, L slid a second hand into Light's pants and down between his legs. He felt his partner's balls tight up against his body, just as the book had told him they would be. Taking note that the right ball hung lower than the left (Ah, Yagami-kun, an aberration once again - according to some sources), and his curious satisfied, L dragged an experimental scratch through the coarse hairs. He took note of Light's hastened breath, took another note to do that again in the future.

Light's head rolled back on his shoulders and he let out...was that a whimper? L watched him closely, trying to read him, but it was surprisingly difficult when the boy's beautiful logic was hidden behind this so-called "sex flush" and a clenched jaw. He decided quickly, however, that maybe he didn't really need to read Light all that much before making his next move.

He slid one hand up Light's abdomen, rubbing up and down once on his nipple as he passed it, and tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Light's head. Light blinked at him once, but didn't object as L brought their mouths together.

Light tasted far sweeter than L would have imagined. Not nearly sweet enough, of course, but sweet nonetheless. L found himself wondering briefly if Light had perhaps found his hidden stash of candies and was surprised to discover that he didn't mind all that much if he had.

He didn't mind because Light's tongue was slick and warm and tickled a little when it slid along the roof of L's mouth. Because Light's teeth were so slippery-smooth under L's own tongue, and L had the urge to concentrate a bit more acutely on the sensations so as to catalog them later. For science. Of course.

L gripped at Light's shoulders - checking for the increased muscle tension promised by his textbook. He wasn't surprised to hear Light moan at the pressure. Yes, definitely by-the-book. But then he wouldn't have expected anything else from someone as meticulous and aware of etiquette as Light Yagami.

But he felt Light's tongue press rudely, impatiently into his mouth and he thought that perhaps he liked this less restrained version of Light. It wasn't terribly Kira-like...unless L took into account the obvious desire in Light's actions to possess and to take what he wanted. That seemed to fit the profile, but it felt altogether too good for L to do anything about it at the moment. He'd log the knowledge away for later, for after this experiment was over.

Because this experiment was far too fascinating, far too consuming, to focus on anything else. L should have expected it; he had just read, after all, that five of the twelve cranial nerves that affected brain function were involved in kissing. That was why this felt so good, felt like it was taking over his entire body. Predictable. Good.

Light grunted in a rather unrefined way and tugged on L's hair. L wished that maybe he'd had Matsuda pick up something beyond textbooks, wondered - for maybe the first time ever - if he was missing something crucial about something that he'd studied. He felt the heat rush to his own face as Light's fingers twisted tighter in his hair.

L hadn't expected to dislike this stage of the investigation - he liked all things that contributed to the ever-growing pool of knowledge in his head - but he certainly hadn't thought that he'd like it this much. He'd been prepared to simply appear interested, engaged, wanton. But Light's hands closed around his shoulders and pressed down and L found himself more than eager to follow his partner's lead.

He hooked his fingers over the waist of Light's pants (though, not his underwear, L thought with a frown) and tugged down, a smug, heady feeling of pleasure swimming around in his head because he thought of that move all on his own and hadn't needed to rely on a book. Light's hips and thighs and knees were all exposed, flushed and quivering. And, L felt his gut tighten in a way that hadn't been described in any of his books.

L felt Light's fingernails dig into his scalp as he drew his face closer to his partner's cock. L breathed, felt as the small space between his lips and the hardened length in front of his mouth became humid and warm. Tentatively, he slid a wet, pink tongue from between his lips and made contact.

One single point of contact, moist-on-dry, warm-on-hot, soft-on-hard, and Light's hips jerked forward as a strangled cry curled from his lips. Thick, clear fluid pooled at the head of Light's cock, began to slide slowly down to where L's tongue was lapping - L had forgotten for the moment what the books had called it. He dragged his tongue upward to meet it.

It tasted...sharp. And thick. It "felt" more than it "tasted" like anything. But he liked it, liked the way it stuck to his tongue and slid slowly, viscous, backward. He liked it quite a bit, actually. L licked at the head and before Light could gasp again, the entire length was in his mouth.

Light's hips bucked, his nails were probably drawing blood now, but L didn't care. He had Light - Kira - in his mouth, and he was making him squirm and writhe and curse and there was something...very arousing about that. Something intoxicating, maybe.

He slid his tongue around the contours of Light's length, felt the regions named in a book, the title of which he couldn't recall at the moment. He could probably categorize the stirrings he was feeling in his own groin into the stages of the Sexual Response Cycle, if he cared to. But he'd rather listen to those fascinating noises that Light was making somewhere above him.

L felt a little unsettled that this young man - this likely sociopathic murderer - was making him lose his concentration so easily. Perhaps it was part of Kira's plan all along; maybe the next time L let his eyes slip shut, he wouldn't open them again. Perhaps this was the one mistake he'd make and it would cost him everything...

Then Light bent his knee and hooked his leg over L's shoulder, drawing the detective closer against his body, and L wasn't sure if anything else mattered all that much at the moment - safety of the nation, be damned! - because Light tasted and felt and smelled so good and the very opposite of the predictability that L had come to expect and desire from him. It was exhilarating, this departure from normalcy.

L was getting ready to try something new - he'd read something about the pleasure of a well-time vibration of the lips - when Light grabbed his hair and pulled him away. He stared up with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and saliva glistening on his lips.

Light growled, leaned over, and licked the moisture from L's mouth before pulling him up to a standing position.

"Bed," he hissed, "now."

L blinked, stared for a moment, then Light's hand was cupped around the back of his head and his lips were covered and a tongue was sliding along his teeth.

L felt an arm slip behind his hips and his feet left the ground. And Light's hips fit so nicely into the curve of L's knees, so he gripped to him and let the other boy carry him. But Light appeared to be discontent with carrying; his lips and teeth and tongue prodded at L's, slid down L's chin and jaw and neck. He was nipping and tasting and L wondered if perhaps his studies had been wrong and, rather than only five, all twelve cranial nerves were associated with this act that was making his head feel dizzy, feel like they were falling. He gripped tighter.

And it was a good thing he had, he discovered, as he felt Light's breath catch as he tripped over his discarded shirt and now they were stumbling, hurtling forward and L's eyes widened even more and they crashed.

L felt the cold smoothness of glass against his back. They were pressed against the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony now. The mishap hadn't slowed Light's frantic mouthing, though, and the other boy was now tugging L's shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. L noted silently that this was just another obstacle.

But when Light started to work at L's belt buckle, L wondered if they were going anywhere soon for obstacles to really cause much of a problem. Light tugged L's pants from his hips and L felt the the cold of glass pane against his nether regions. He wondered briefly when Light's father was supposed to be returning to the hotel, if he was going to be taking the east entrance and if he would choose to look up and wonder whose backside was pressed against the glass of his son's bedroom balcony window. But then Light's fingers were skirting over his erection, over his testicles and to his entrance.

His muscles tightened and he wondered if it was voluntary and if he'd maybe read about it earlier but it didn't really matter because then Light's fingers were pushing at him...and he was letting him do it. It hurt, stung, stretched in a most uncomfortable way, but Light's eyes held his own and the other boy's lips were twisted in a way that just begged for L to show some reaction.

L, of course, was not nearly intoxicated enough by this act to give away something so crucial to the suspected Kira, so he gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Watari had taught him that nothing came easily. (Except Light. It was now L's goal to make him come quickly, beautifully, and in a way that reasserted L's own dominance. But, later.)

Light's fingers were buried now and L felt them stroke over contours, searching, finding and he arched his back off the window pane. The air cooled his sweat-slicked skin. He began reciting anatomy in his head calmly, reeling in his chaotic mind. He wiggled his toes against the back Light's thigh, seeing control on a distant shoreline. He smirked.

"Yagami-kun," he cooed, his child-like smile returning to his lips, "such meticulous preparation. 91%."

Light coughed, the rhythm of his fingers faltering. He bit his bottom lip again, pulled his fingers away, and lined L up on his cock.

"So impatient, Ryuuzaki. You know, I'm convinced that Kira is rather impulsive as well."

L raised his eyebrows. Touché.

And he felt himself filled. Swiftly, efficiently, so Kira-like. It was an interesting sensation and he felt himself pushing against it, painful as it was. He didn't need textbook names for this. It was predictable like all sex, of course, but this feeling especially he knew, this thrill of being entwined so intimately with his opposite, his equal. When his body started squeaking against the condensation on the glass and their sweat slid down the pane in streaks through the fog, L angled his hips and played along.

It was fascinating, really, the way that the frantic pace was so different from what he'd anticipated it would be (Had he anticipated this far? Wasn't he just supposed to be spying on Light's absent undergarments? He couldn't remember.) and from what he knew Light and Kira to be like, but it was also so right. Light worked his thighs, L felt his partner move around inside him, dry and tugging and painful, but he was getting used to it, used to the sacrifice for the greater good. It was noble, even, he'd venture.

L let Light slide him down the glass, one long, obscene squeak, and now Light was on his knees, pressing arrhythmically into him and with this coarse weave of carpet, there must be some terrible friction on Light's knees right now. Good. Serves the serial-murderer right. L took a small measure of pride in the retribution and tipped his hips to perhaps improve the angle.

It worked - of course it did, he thought smugly - and he felt Light hit that spot inside him with a name that made him giggle, mature accomplished genius-detective that he was, and L's back arched off the glass. That did it.

He took note with a frown, as his hips rocked forward and semen poured in short pulses from the head of his cock, that it had been rather quick and he didn't know if it was due to any skill of Light Yagami's or because of L's own inexperience, but he let his head roll back as orgasm pulsed through his body. It bothered him, but only a bit, that he hadn't noticed the stages of orgasm he'd researched, that only "ejaculatory inevitability" stood out. But then Light leaned forward and licked the sticky substance from his chest and, god, he didn't really mind anymore.

The feeling of being held up by Light, his back cupped by those narrow, pretty fingers, was warm and strange. Foreign. He liked it.

L leaned back against the window pane, felt the cool and the dew and let Light finish pressing into him. He watched as Light's face contorted into something almost evil and Kira-like as came - quickly and beautifully, just as L had planned - his fingers digging red half-moons into L's back, his breath coming in short, desperate pants. L grinned and pressed him backward.

They toppled to the floor together, sticky and sweaty and altogether too warm, and L tried to remember if he'd read that they'd be stuck together indefinitely if they didn't clean up right away. He shrugged it off and nestled into Light's grudging embrace on the rough carpet. Light frowned and L curled into the fetal position against his side and they were hardly the textbook example of post-coital affection and bliss, but damn if it didn't matter right then.

L still wasn't sure what to think about the underwear, but he'd figure it out later. Current certainty: 92%.


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