Renaissance

BY : Rue Ryuuzaki
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 2166
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.

Renaissance

Chapter:One-Shot
Author: Rue
Rating: M
Pairings: LxRaito

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the creator of Death Note. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: Yaoi, Lemon, basically PWP (lemon) with psychological aspects.

Summary: "I’m going to make you feel more pain and more pleasure than you’ve ever felt before in your life. I’m going to make you scream, Raito-kun…and what is more, I’m going to make you beg for every minute.”


A/N: IMPORTANT!: All dialogue "..." is past tense! All dialogue is flashbacks, sorry, in FF.N it's in italics but I have no idea how to work it on here...

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All men kill the thing they hate, too, unless, of course, it kills them first. -James Thurber

--

L knows that Raito doesn’t love him. He knows because he doesn’t love Raito either, and they’re so very much alike. It isn’t love, and really, it isn’t even lust.

He chuckles slightly against Raito’s neck at the thought. Because lust is a sin, and a God…a God would not subject himself to such sin. But what else would this be if not a sin, this almost offensive act that they partake in so very often? And if it is a sin, some transgression, does it make them bad people? Perhaps, but then, they weren’t really good people to begin with, anyway.

Raito doesn’t taste good, in fact he tastes so disgusting (sinful) that it’s contradictorily delicious. L has never tasted something as wrong as Raito, and God, it’s just wonderful. It isn’t love, it isn’t lust, it’s hate, pure loathing that makes him want to touch Raito like he does. That makes Raito want him to touch him.

And Raito does want it, and it’s not degrading. Because even though L’s the one holding him down, pinning him to the cool rumpled sheets and making him beg -Raito is the one who lets him. Raito is in control of every gasp he makes, every shudder and plea he utters through those pretty, venomous lips. L is allowed to do this, allowed to dominate a God.

They both hate it. They both hate it because they both need it.

As geniuses, above mere commoners, they’ve never needed anything like they need this.

Raito bends his neck upwards, offering L his throat, telling him to keep going because L is just laying there. As if to say ‘What the hell are you waiting for?’.

In response to this question, L grabs Raito’s wrists and forces them above his head, moving his face to hover Raito’s. He moves his other hand down to Raito’s crotch and grasps the tent there firmly. Raito bucks his hips toward it, and L caresses it harder.

Raito groans, pushing himself up against L’s hand again. L plants his lips on Raito’s chest, Raito’s shirt opened to reveal every inch of taunt pale skin stretched over a layer of lean muscle.

L squeezes Raito’s wrists, a subtle message to Raito to keep them in place, and he moves his hands down, roughly running them over the sensitive skin of Raito’s flesh. Raito makes a noise in the back of his throat and clenches his teeth, his eyes telling L to get on with it. His hands stay in place above his head as though tied there with an invisible wire. The chain is gone, has been for hours, and there’s something different in the air, something less innocent than before -

-and it drives L mad.

He rips the zipper of Raito’s pants down, nearly breaking it, and then hooks his fingers underneath the hem of the pants and underwear. Raito shivers at the feel of his fingertips so very low on his hips, and it’s all the younger man can do to not buck himself prematurely once more.

L slides the pants down agonizingly slow. Raito squirms beneath him, because he knows that drives L insane with desire, and heat builds painfully in L's lower abdomen. L pulls the pants off, and reminds of the first time that he saw Raito like this. Naked, flushed, lain out before him, his for the taking…

“Listen to me, Raito-kun.”

“…I’m listening.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes, you’re sitting on top of me, Ryuuzaki, pinning me to a fucking bed. I’m paying attention, damn it.”

Yes, it had been so very surprising for the boy. It wasn’t L’s fault, really, for Raito was truly too tempting for his own good. L supposed most sins were.

He’d been sleeping, god, he always looked so very innocent as he slept -L hated it. He hated it because it was so very beautiful, and Raito just didn’t deserve to be beautiful, nor did he have to right to look so very innocent. He was guilty, he was Kira, and L knew it -had known it since the moment he first saw the teenager on camera, in the picture, at college…

“There’s no reason for foul language, Raito-kun.”

“Like hell there isn’t.”

He was so very guilty in that false image of purity. It was infuriating, and L couldn’t take it anymore. Night after night of watching the perfect face relax into an exquisite, naive sight, L had finally snapped and straddled that pretty sleeping figure, and Raito had immediately awoken.

“Ah well, there’s really nothing to be done about it, I suppose…well, are you still listening?”

“Yes!”

“Good, good, just checking. Now, Raito-kun, I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen, what I’m going to do to you, understand? That way you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“...Fine.”

Now, Raito doesn’t look innocent, and L can’t help but love that. He has those narrowed eyes, that cruel gleam, and still he lays there, allowing this. L rakes his finger nails down Raito’s front from his collar to his thighs, scraping the flushed nipples. Raito arches and lets a moan fall from his mouth.

Raito only ever curses in front of him, L had noticed, and wonders if that’s a particularly good thing. It is quite fetching to hear the profanities muttered during an overload of the senses, but L thinks he prefers screaming. And God, Raito could scream so very prettily.

L had always known it.

He kisses the inside of Raito’s thighs and bites down, enjoying the spasm that jolts through the slim body at his ministrations. L spreads Raito’s legs and bends them at the knee, exposing the erection there, glistening for him, and he admires the tight circle of muscle not far below, and then runs his tongue from the base to the apex of Raito's sex, and revels it the sharp intake of breath.

He takes the entire length into his mouth and makes sure to hold down the narrow hips -Raito has a habit of bucking when he does this. L is not disappointed, but he is ready, and takes the shaft in further and Raito groans beneath him, his entire body reaching towards L’s mouth.

L’s good at this, he knows it, by the way Raito gasps and shudders and convulses at the flick of his tongue. He didn’t do this the first time, the position would have allowed Raito to sit up and possibly push L away. Or at least, at the time, that had been L’s logic. However, now, experience told him that Raito could think of little else but his mouth when it was on him like this, tongue twisting around him, suckling…

Long, elegant fingers grasp the sheets, and L’s eyes find pretty lips, opening and releasing another “Ahh…!”.

The detective wonders if he likes this Raito better, truly, or if he likes the old Raito that he had to…persuade…into these actions. The innocence was fetching, but L was tired of such things -for Raito was so very guilty, and L hated (loved) seeing him in such an ignorant state.

“Good, now. I’m going to…well, I suppose the most straight forward way to say it is ‘fuck you’ , and then -”

“Fucking hell, Ryuuzaki, what the -? Get off of me! Get -”

“Raito-kun, quiet.”

“No! I will not be quiet, you just said you were going to -going to -”

“Fuck you?”

“Yes. That!”

Oh, the look on the boy’s face had been priceless. It was that innocence that L so loathed, the widening of the eyes, the reddening of the cheeks -and further. When Raito was truly embarrassed he blushed all the way down his neck and chest…that expression made him look his age, whereas sometimes L forgot due to his incredible (Fascinating, complex, horrible) mind.

L sucks hard, cupping the taut sac tightly, and Raito is then bending upward, crying out with what little breath he has left and spilling his seed. L removes his mouth quickly and catches the semen in his hand, droplets falling onto the comforter. He doesn’t feel like fetching the lube; the nightstand seems very far away. He inserts two slick fingers at once, into the relaxed but still panting body.

The older of the two leans over the younger and watches as he pulls the fingers out, and shoves them back in, hooking them slightly this time and making a strangled gasp emit from swollen lips. The lips, L notes, he had not yet kissed tonight, and so he sees Raito must have been biting his lip at some point. Raito told him that the slight pain he got from the action was enough to anchor him to reality. L wonders often, if Raito were to forget to bite his lip, would he float away into a pleasure induced oblivion?

He thinks often about what that would look like, how that body would look so lost and drenched in ecstasy. L thinks it could be beautiful (grotesque).

L added a third finger. Raito’s eyes are hooded and he’s pushing back against his fingers, silently (or, not so silently) telling L to replace them. To get them out, and get him in, but he’s glaring up horribly -a very Kira-ish glower, L thinks -and is trying to control L again. It works, of course it does, it always does, because Raito has as much control over L as L has over him.

And oh, how they abhor it.

“I have no intention of allowing you to do such a thing!”

“I have no intention of you not allowing me to do such a thing.”

“What…what the hell is that suppose to mean!?”

Raito might think himself the one in less control, sometimes, when he finds himself pleading for release that only L can allow him, but L knows the truth. Raito is Kira, and Kira has power over L. He’s the one who began murdering, thus making L start the case, live in Japan for almost a year, reveal his face to th police as L for the first time…Kira (Raito) has so much power over L…

…and so, L thinks it’s only fair that Kira should be the one penetrated be him, writhing under him, begging and wailing for that sweet finish line that’s so very close -

L slides in, and wastes no time moving. He thrusts hard and Raito is wrapping himself around L with long legs and nimble hands and sharp fingernails.

“It means, Raito-kun, that I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to make you feel more pain and more pleasure than you’ve ever felt before in your life. I’m going to make you scream, Raito-kun…and what is more, I’m going to make you beg for every minute.”

Raito had shivered at this and, still in the heat of his denial, he had attempted to shout protests. L had grown tired of it, and seized those lips for the first time. Such soft, warm, succulent lips they were, and L found he enjoyed everything they did. Then they were kissing him, when Raito’s tongue flitted out to wet them, or when he was making some sort of noise or shouting in rapture.

And, sometimes, even when they lied.

His lips are venomous, but a saccharine sort of poison that easily becomes an addiction. That toxic (delicious) substance makes him want to beg, but not for release -for something better, or…perhaps, worse. L isn’t really sure what. He’s not sure he’s sure of anything anymore.

Raito clamps down upon him when he drives against his prostate with monstrous force, screaming out his approval and curling his toes. The muscles around him, so hot, so very tight, it’s driving L mad again (although he’s not sure if he was ever sane to begin with). But L cannot shiver in pleasure, because to quiver at all would be to show weakness in front of Raito. If Raito sees any weaknesses in this supposedly powerful person, he will turn cold and feed upon it as though it were tangible…and L will become his next victim, whether Raito wants him to be or not.

Raito did beg, and still he begs, asking loudly through dry sobbing breaths for more, more, more because there’s nothing else he wants, needs at this moment. God, he needs this, needs it so badly, and L needs him to need it. How they hate that they should need something so much, that it encompasses their entire being, and yet they stay, entangled in each other, moving -oh god, moving -until times stops.

There are white lights flashing behind L’s eyes as the passage surrounding him contracts and Raito comes again on his stomach. The howl of Raito’s euphoria vibrates through L’s eardrums, rocking him and tipping him over the edge with a forceful wave of bliss. The way the body beneath him tenses, then thrashes, then collapses into semi-unconsciousness is…almost liberating, and L longs to cause this again.

And he would, soon, because he had a feeling…he had a feeling he wouldn’t have much more time left.

“I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you…” Raito chants tiredly, still digging his nails into L’s shoulders, “I hate you, L, I hate you so much…”

“I know,” L nods and rolls over to the other side of the bed, stealing one more kiss from those lips that have intoxicated him so.

Raito hates him, and that’s okay. Because L doesn’t exactly love Raito either.

--

I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain. -James Baldwin

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So…what do you think? I think there needed to be a willing Raito-uke for once…I agree that’s not the most realistic thing (most people have him wanting to top, and I‘m all for the denial stage), but I wanted to pull it off in a way that was believable. Did I do it? O O

Please tell me what you think…and also if you’re reading my story ‘Serenity’s Requiem’, I’m updating tonight…just so’s ya know. Anyway, please review!

--Rue


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