BY : kimboskerov
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 1470
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.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

FUN FACT! Every time the word ‘capoeira’ came up (including right now), I had to look it up on the Wikipedia website in order to decipher the correct spelling. Yeah, I know, I’m pathetic.





L is having Naomi Misora teach him capoeira.

This is a ruse, of course - he doesn't really need to be taught. Although admittedly, he does have an interest in learning this particular form of self-defense, however slight - it could prove useful, he knows, in the years to come; should he ever deliberately makes his public debut as L, and willingly puts himself in harm's way. It has practical uses.

But is L is a prodigy, and clever enough to work out the mechanics of these kinds of things on his own. He is also shrewd enough not to waste his time on false modesty. He has read a few books on the subject, glanced over diagrams laying out the fundamentals of it, has watched videos of people showing off with it. He has never physically practiced it himself, but that is beside the point: it has been neatly outlined for him inside his mind. He gets it. He knows what he's capable of, is fully aware of his own strength and flexibility, can apply laws of science and mathematics to it in order to successfully pull it off himself with a level of exact preciseness. He is confident in his abilities. There is a reason he has assumed the mantle of the World's Greatest Detective at such a young age - he is, to state plainly, a genius.

L has an ulterior motive here. He has made a point of keeping in contact with Naomi Misora since her assistance on the BB Murder Case up until now. They usually meet up once a year, around the anniversary of the date that they jointly arrested B, have dinner, and make small-talk. But L is kind of shy, and Naomi is engaged, and although he has no moral quandary with helping her cheat on Raye Penbar (whom he's done a lot of research on, and not remotely impressed with in the slightest), he thinks that she might. He has been biding his time up until now, devising a plot in order to set everything into motion: a plan to sway her, if you will.

Because L wants Naomi Misora - yes, has wanted her a very long time, ever since she first started working for him. Of course, this was not the basis in which he chose her for the job - he honed in more on her intelligence, skill, and convenient availability. She was an excellent choice in terms of overall ability and temperament - the fact that she was alarmingly beautiful was just an added bonus.

The infatuation began shortly thereafter, seizing L with such a sudden ferocity that it was somewhat unnerving. L has largely been a sexless individual the majority of his life - perhaps even held an aversion to the physicality of it - but Naomi has proved to be an exception to this rule. His "first crush", if you will. There is an animal attraction there - a strange, wanton feeling that he cannot deny any longer. And so he has come up with this insidious little plot, curious as to how it will unravel. And although L has never personally engaged in sexual congress, like capoeira, he's pretty sure he knows enough about the basics to be able to excel in it. He's simply brilliant like that.

Naomi has arranged for a little one-on-one training session at a friend's karate studio between afternoon and night classes. In a few hours time there will be a dozen screaming kids, exuberantly exchanging blows and wrestling one another to the ground; for now, however, the dojo is completely barren save for the two current occupants - the sensei and her pupil.

"Just so you know," Naomi warns him, as a way of greeting, "Capoeira is especially physically demanding." She eyes his emaciated frame with a certain degree of doubt, as though he may break under the strain of what's about to transpire.

"Although I may not look like it, I'm actually quite strong," he reassures her. "And if you're worried about endurance, I'll have you know that I used to be the British Junior Champion in tennis. I'm used to exerting myself."

"Hunh." She doesn't appear convinced in the slightest. "Well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure." L notes that, even in sweats and a training bra, Naomi seems to have a particular affinity for black. It makes the milky white skin of her stomach stand out even more prominently. Not that L minds - she's exceedingly lovely.

(In later years, Misa will call him a pervert. She doesn't know how right she is.)

"Okay, so," Naomi says, tugging on some fingerless onyx-colored gloves to match the rest of her workout ensemble. "As you're probably aware, capoeira is a kind of acrobatic display, with a lot of feints and extensive use of groundwork. It's composed mostly of sweeps, kicks, and head-butts... although some less frequently-used techniques include elbow-strikes, punches, and body-throws." She pauses and looks him up and down, apparently sizing him up. "And, well, although it's not customary, perhaps we should start you off with something easy, like the lesser-known techniques. Warm you up, at the very least."

L smiles blandly at her. "Oh, no, that's okay. I'm already warmed-up," he tells her genially. "Really. Let's delve straight into the hard stuff."

Naomi looks like she's about to argue, and then shrugs. "Suit yourself," she says, and then chews on her lower lip as she tries to find a way to put the process into words. "Well, all of the kicks are pretty flashy... you see, capoeira evolved from street-dancing..." she runs him through a brief history of the Brazilian martial art, which of course L already knows. "... so anyway, it may not seem very practical, as capoeira is mostly about skill, rather then being a functional use in which to harm someone ... keep this in mind when I show you."

L nods. "Of course."

Naomi seems to hesitate at first, and then abruptly goes into a handspring, legs lashing out as she does so. When she lands back on both feet again, she seems almost embarrassed. "Well... you see... it's kind of like that."

"Like that, hm?" L asks, cocking his head at her in curiosity. "May I try?"

She nods assent. "Of course. I'll watch you, and correct your form." She stands aside.

That wont be necessary, L thinks, and proceeds to pull of the same maneuver with absolute perfection. When he lands Naomi is staring at him blankly, as though she doesn't quite understand.

"Was that good?" he asks her mildly.

"...Uh... yeah." She seems a little shell-shocked; he thinks he catches a glimpse of her right eyebrow twitching. "Okay, well, there's a more advanced technique you can implement by adding a head spin..." she shows him.

"Incredible. Very fluid," he approves. "My turn?" he inquires innocently, and she nods. Once again the move is executed with undeniable precision. Naomi seems a bit unnerved by L's display of skill.

"...Are you sure you haven't been training on the side?" she asks skeptically.

"No, of course not. Misora-san is just an excellent teacher, it seems."

She gives him a mistrustful look, runs him through a few more moves. Within a few minutes they are sparring, parrying one another's blows and sweeping the feet out from one another. It becomes quickly apparent that L's caliber in the martial art is parallel with her own. As the realization of this dawns upon Naomi Misora, the fight turns decidedly more nasty. That's what L has been aiming for.

It's certainly not showy anymore; it's aggressive, physical, and combinative. Naomi's pride is at stake here - she has been practicing this martial art for years now and she does not intend to be shown up by some shaggy-haired, skinny twit of a detective. L manages to successfully sweep her feet out from underneath her, but it only takes a second before Naomi's feet come rocketing back up, kicking him squarely in the jaw and sending him reeling. As L topples the floor Naomi loses all sportsmanship entirely and throws herself upon him, and they are not engaging in a battle of skill anymore, it is a battle of dominance and Naomi will not submit.

They wrestle on the mat for a long time, each of them trying their hardest to best the other. Naomi eventually gets L pinned, and the younger male struggles in vain to free himself from her vice-like grip.

"Yield, L," Naomi says, not without a hint of smugness; her eyes glitter triumphantly, two onyx gemstones with a mischievous and satisfied glint in them. Her breath is hot on his face, and vaguely minty. "I've won."

And L kisses her.

For a moment she is merely slack-jawed in response. Then her grip on his shoulders tighten, and L wonders briefly if he's badly miscalculated - if she intends to hit him for his brazen, unwanted assault on her mouth. But then she kisses him back, tongue thrust forcefully into his mouth as she leans further onto him. From there on it's a battle of a different kind - a scuffle to determine the appropriate pecking order, on who will be on top. L finally allows himself to submit to her forceful will, and lets Naomi completely take over. Not that he minds, no, not really. The speed in which their clothes come off boggles the mind, and abruptly there is a collision of flesh, and Naomi hisses as L's cock finds its way inside of her.

"You... you son of a bitch," the hiss of her voice in L's ear evokes a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. "You... you planned this... didn't you?"

L doesn't answer; he simply takes her by the hips, letting him sink further into sweet oblivion. Naomi's walls tighten around him, and he has to bite back the urge to cry out. His expression is not lost on Naomi, however, who grins a predator's grin.

"That's better," she murmurs huskily, and she reaches up to pull her hair free from its bun; it tumbles over the two of them in black, inky waves. L doesn't like it - her hair is pretty, but it obscures his vision, and her wants to see everything. He wants to see her pale, silken skin, the curve of her breasts, the look on her face as he fucks her. He pushes some of it over her shoulder, but as his fingers brush the flesh of her arm, he gets a better idea. "You deserve this..."

His hands run up and down the length of lithe, slender body. Just as his fingers trace the pert tips of her nipples, however, she suddenly gathers both of his wrists in one hand and pins them over his head. "No, Ryuuzaki," she tells him feverishly, with eyes glassy and half-lidded with desire. Ryuuzaki? L thinks in muddled confusion. He finds it odd that she would insist upon calling him by his other alias in the throes of passion, when she adamantly swore against using it any other time. Ryuuzaki will always be your weird doppelganger, she had told him firmly in the past. I don't care if he stole the name from you and not the other way around, it's still creepy. So you need to find yourself a better handle for yourself when we're in public, because I refuse to address you as such.

He tries not to dwell on it too much. After all, he never intended to make Naomi Misora fall in love with him - it's not really his place to question where she's coming from. This is simply an indulgence in a forbidden pleasure, making a connection he couldn't otherwise obtain due to secrecy and work. This isn't a relationship by any definition, nor does he intend to nurture it in that way - if Naomi wants to lose herself in some little perverse fantasy on the side, one involving a sepctre, a delusional almost-twin with a serial-killer streak - that's fine with him. Well, maybe not fine, it's a little strange to be perfectly honest, but it's not the foremost concern in his mind presently. Right now all he's thinking about, all he wants to is - is -

Naomi's cries out and suddenly her walls clench and unclench around him. L is quick to follow, his eyes squeezed so tightly shut he sees stars. Naomi releases her hold on his wrists and collapses on top of him, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

It takes several minutes for either of them to regain their composure. L's urges have been sated, and he feels warm and malleable and exhausted as a result of his endeavors. Still, he knows that they don't have much time before the instructors show up for tonight's classes. This also seems to occur to Naomi as well, and she reluctantly breaks the connection between them.

They gather their belongings in silence. Upon getting dressed, Naomi walks L to the exit, where he calls up Watari and instructs him to bring the car around. They stand there in front of the dojo, a little awkwardly. L wonders if Naomi will regret the whole encounter later; if she will be ridden with guilt and anxiety over the crime of passion that they have both partaken in. L, of course, will have no regrets at all. He considers it a learning experience, in more ways than one. He has practiced his technique in a practical method of defense as well as a technique regarding the sins of the flesh.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while now," Naomi admits unexpectedly, just as the limo pulls up to the curb.

Ever since you were assaulted in the alley? L wonders, thinking of B.

"The part where you kicked my ass, or the part where we copulated on the floor?"

The contrast of his words is amusing, and of course calculated for effect. Naomi's eyes widen in surprise at his blasé inquiry, and then she laughs. "Both," she says.

"Why?" His question seems to startle her.

"Why?" She repeats, hands on her hips. "Well, I've been meaning to work out my aggressions on you for using me as a pawn in your little investigation. I mean, you pretty much willingly let me pair up with a killer--"

'Pair up'. Interesting choice of words.

"--when you obviously knew who he was, and what connection he held to the case. I could've been killed," she emphases with a show of her hands. "So many times over. I was on leave, I didn't have a gun, and I lacked confidence in a fight."

"You seemed to hold up pretty well, when he tried to assault you," L reasoned with a shrug.

"That guy was a joke." She took her hair-tie and swept her long, midnight colored strands into a loose-fitting ponytail. L thought she was even prettier in the aftermath of their interaction, flushed and sweaty from fight, and then the sex that succeeded it.

"It still doesn't explain the desire to fornicate with me," L observes. Naomi quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Sure it does," she says, and her tone is strange.

L switches subjects as Watari comes around to open the door to the limo for him. "Would you like for me to drop you off somewhere?"

She blinks. "No... that's okay... my car is parked just around the corner..."

They lapse into silence for several seconds. L smiles at her. "You are very strange, Misora-san."

"What do you mean?" She seems confused, and L simply shakes his head as he ducks inside the vehicle and closes the door gently behind him.

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