Subjugation

BY : Hellagoddess
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 1622
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.

WARNINGS! PLEASE READ!

This is not a story for fans of L! As much as I love the weirdo, I mistreat him pretty badly in this! There are additional warnings for necrophilia (or a strain of it anyway…), so if this makes you squeamish or if SPOILER Raito’s ‘win’ over the detective bothers you a lot, then maybe this isn’t one you should be reading!

Also, this is NOTHING like Shades of Mystification! If you're looking for humor - this isn't the place!

Now that THAT’S done!

This story is dedicated to Duomi! Who, by the way, is not only a wonderful writer and artist, but is a good friend who puts up with my random emails and general babbling and stalking on other sites! (I still want those tentacles arms! GRRR!) She’s rather epic!

Subjugation
By Hellagoddess

Something important was happening.

Raito could read it in the line of L’s back as the dark-haired man leaned forward suddenly, his hands clenching on his knees. It quickened in Raito’s veins, an almost smothering hope of well-laid plans coming to fruition.

An uncontrollable series of events was starting and the younger man would be damned if he’d even blink to miss a delicious second of it. His stomach flipped over slowly, like an egg rolling in syrup, pulse picking up in mute, morbid excitement as he fixed his gaze on the detective.

“Watari?” The dark-haired man questioned urgently, full of worry, eyes on the monitor. The screens flickered blank suddenly and L turned to the rest of the group, firing orders from his thin, flat lips. Raito wanted to smirk at him and tell him that everything was out of his control now, but the thrill of the experience he’d waited so long for held him silent.

Then everything slowed down. L’s spoon dropped to the floor and Raito watched as the man tipped sideways in his seat. Time ticked by in hours, the red glare of the emergency lights glinting off the metal of the office chair as it over-balanced and slid out from underneath the detective.

Raito knew what was happening from the moment the man had gasped. He almost couldn’t believe that all his fears were about to be relieved. He’d done it. Everything had worked out, all he needed was to be able to act through the sheer smugness suffusing his body. It was all up to him now.

“Ryuuzaki! No!” He lunged and caught him before he hit the floor, listening to the shocked noises around the room. Everything was coming apart at the seams, Matsuda’s frantic cries echoed over the others. They would all be killed next. The men clutched at one another in panic, clenching their eyes shut as they waited for their last moments to finish. They blurred into background noise, meaningless irritations as L’s dying gaze sucked him in.

Raito watched as the detective stared up at him, those blank obsidian eyes widening slightly as Raito let a victory smirk slide onto his face, sure no one else could see in their blind, consuming terror.

‘I’ve beaten you, Ryuuzaki. No one will ever know how close you came.’

L’s eyes were sliding closed now, the panic of the heart attack leaving his body warm and limp. Finally lifeless. Raito felt the sudden urge to shake him violently, to bang his head against the floor, just because he could.

He called for the Shinigami, knowing already that Rem was dead also and couldn’t reply. He shot from the room, in the guise of searching, to exact revenge. He quickly found the dropped note, tucking it into the back of his pants before calling the other investigators in to worry about the mysterious pile of sand-like dust.

Returning to the scene of his victory, he walked slowly back to the main room, while the rest of them were still speculating over the substance. He strode up to where L was cradled in Aizawa’s grasp and gently knelt before them reverently, lifting his own arms. A feigned look of sadness and regret slowly crossed his features as he examined the man before him.

“I’ll take him now.”

The task force office quickly handed L’s body to Raito, knowing that even though the two had had their differences, they were close friends and perhaps it was best if the young man paid his respects first.

Raito slipped his arms around L, pulling the dead weight across his lap, the detective’s head cradled in the crook of his arm. He sat like that on the floor as he felt everyone come back into the room, weeping crocodile tears, loving the way they hit L’s pale face and ran down his cheeks like the detective was crying himself.

He heard his father murmur something about leaving him to his grief and the rest of the team slowly filed out. At the click of the door, a smile twisted onto his face and he smirked viciously down at the body.

A moment of sheer joy suffused him. Everything would be so easy from here on out. He’d defeated his one true adversary and was free from the detective’s worryingly close deductions.

L looked no different in death then he had in life. Those startlingly large eyes closed for once, his cheeks soft-looking and sunken. Serrated hair, messy and un-brushed, falling into his face, its slightly coarse texture brushing against Raito’s hands.

His fingers slid up, seeming of their own volition and touched the detective’s cheek. Still warm, rosy with blood and departing life. He dug his fingers in, denting the pale skin with his exploration, feeling the hardness of L’s teeth underneath the thin flesh. They slowly roamed up further, to press gently against his eyelids, feeling the rounded balls beneath the soft skin, his stiff eyelashes laying on his pale cheeks. He explored further, sliding down the bridge of his nose and pinching the end, cutting off the passageway and delighting in this new surge of power.

He could do anything now. He could punch L and there would be no retaliation. He could stand up and kick the body clear across the room, stomp on his hands till the bones broke, those fine, elegant fingers spotted with blood. His lips hurt from the maniacal grin on his face. He had won. The proof was here, in his arms. Unresisting and lifeless.

His fingers ceased their pinching and shifted down to L’s lips. Raito traced the bottom one, slightly surprised at the smooth texture. He ground his thumb down against it, swiping across it roughly, surprised again when it caused L’s mouth to slip open slightly.

His thumb dipped inside, revelling in this new violation of his nemesis. Inside L’s mouth it was still warm and wet and Raito depressed his tongue, running the tip of his thumb along L’s bottom teeth. The sense of power was rising in an almost erotic fashion. He wanted to do something to L. Anything. He could feel that he was already hard, the rush of power when he’d realized L was finally dead had caused that. The subsequent investigation of his rival’s still body had made his mouth drop open, breath pant in his lungs.

‘I’ve won, I’ve won. I beat him.’

He felt God-like in his power, the ultimate trophy of his triumph was here, clasped in his shaking arms. He let out a small chuckle under his breath, resisting the urge to just let it evolve into full-throated laughter. His thumb left L’s mouth, a thin trail of saliva breaking back against his paling lips. Raito stared, entranced. He kept expecting the detective’s tongue to swipe out, collecting the glistening wetness on his lip; open his eyes, the flat, black, judging pools that had haunted Raito for far too long.

But not anymore.

Raito laughed again, throwing L’s body off his lap, delighted at the way it sprawled onto the floor haphazardly and painful-looking. His eyes swept down the line of his twisted form before he flipped the detective onto his back. He smirked down into L’s face, wanting the man to know he’d been beaten, wanting to leave his mark, to desecrate him in every way possible. He slapped L’s cheek, liking the sharp sound it made, then again, harder, throwing the brunette’s head to the side. He grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him like he’d wanted to earlier, the back of his head banging against the solid floor, his arms sprawling out to the sides, flopping uselessly.

Raito felt dizzy, giddy even, his lips hurting from the effort of holding back his laughter. His head swam and his hands shook, his lungs gasping as he gripped L’s shirt in his fists. He felt drunk on elation, like he’d never been this happy in his entire life.

‘I’ve won, I’ve won!’

He couldn’t stop thinking it, couldn’t stop repeating it over and over. But the fact that L wasn’t there any longer to show his poorly-masked irritation at Raito’s victory abruptly seemed galling.

Raito was suddenly furious, and stood, the elation dimmed beneath a floodlight of rage. His erection throbbed dully, and he paid it no mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten aroused from a well-completed countermove since becoming Kira, though it may be the last. He spoke lowly, knowing the group in the next room might hear him if he raised his voice.

“You thought you could beat me, didn’t you?” He smirked cruelly, shoving L across the floor with his foot. He hunkered down next to him, fisting a hand in his shirt. “But I’m a God, Ryuuzaki. I’m a God in a way you could never comprehend, never understand. And no pretty, little bastard like you could ever get the best of me!”

And he was right. L was pretty, especially in death. Pale and limp, unresisting to anything Raito could think of. It would be an ultimate insult, one last slap in the face, one last victory over the man who had dogged his steps from day one. Raito smiled nastily, his body thrumming at the idea. Such a powerful move over his opponent.

L would have hated it. Abhorred the idea with all his very soul. Raito’s smile widened slightly, a malicious glint entering his eyes. That was the thing that finally settled him.

And then he was on his knees, his hands fumbling at the clasp in his pants like he couldn’t get them open fast enough. His erection was hot and heavy in his hand as he straddled L’s chest, sitting down on it in a way that would have made the man gasp for air if he’d been alive.

He grabbed a handful of L’s black hair and tilted his head up, parting his flat lips with the head of his cock before thrusting in. It was delicious. L was still warm, still moist and malleable. Light twisted both hands cruelly in the black strands and savagely began to fuck his mouth.

The detective’s lips twisted with his movement, Light’s erection catching them on dry patches, making it look like L was protesting the violation. His erection throbbed at the idea and Raito thrust harder, a hand leaving L’s hair and sliding down his jaw, hooking a thumb into the side of his mouth to wrench it open further.

That and a slightly different angle suddenly opened up L’s throat and Raito was in heaven. The detective was so tight and he could thrust without concern of damaging the corpse. It would never be inspected. L’s body would be buried somewhere in secret, no coroners report, no examination of the remains. A completely private funeral.

He realised he’d closed his eyes and opened them quickly, not wanting to miss the sight of his final conquest. The sight was one he would never forget for the rest of his life. His final victory over the genius detective. And then he was coming, hands fisted in L’s hair, pressing the detective’s face against his groin so hard his nose bent slightly. Raito gasped, unable to keep his eyes open and groaned out the last of his satisfaction.

His whole body trembled with pleasant aftershocks and he pulled out slowly, loving the trail of come that spilled out over the detective’s limp, abused lips.

Raito suddenly wished for a photo, to keep this moment fresh in his mind forever. One of the greatest triumphs of his life, he had beaten him and now the genius was dead, defeated in every way possible.

And this was the ultimate checkmate.

But with no opponent to witness it, the whole thing seemed faintly empty.

He got slowly to his feet, staring down at L, splayed on the floor and frowned slightly. Tucking himself back into his pants, he reached for a box of tissues on a nearby desk. L had always kept them there for when his fingers got too sticky to use the keyboard. He wiped his hands on one and then, scrunching it up, childishly threw it at L. It bounced off his chest and rolled to the side.

The detective looked so pale, helpless and something in Raito’s chest squirmed. The brunette was suddenly blinking quickly and swallowing against a lump in his throat.

Raito tried not to think about it, tried not to think about just how easy it was going to be now. With L dead, the challenge would be gone and the detectives on the other side of the door would fall before him like a house of cards.

His new world would be created with an ease which almost irritated him. When L had been alive, at least there had been something else to think of, some care needed with his ideas and his movements.

Now there was nothing.

The brunette was livid.

How dare he! How dare he be taken down so easily! Cursing Raito to this suddenly attainable paradise with nothing to threaten him, nothing to confront him. The victory was empty, the life ahead boring in its simplicity. So effortless that a child could be Kira, that Misa could be Kira! He would be a God, but it would be a lonely existence, full of empty emotion and friends who feared him, even if they didn’t know it was him they feared.

He banged L’s head against the ground again, wanting him to see, wanting him to know.

‘You fuck! Why did you let me do it?!’

And then he was crying, gathering the detective up in his arms, hating the limp feel of his body, his arms slipping free of Raito’s grasp to sprawl at his sides.

“L. L, no.” He whispered, his lips against the detectives cooling cheek. “L, no, don’t go. Come back.”

The detective didn’t move nor reply and Raito gasped as L’s head angled down slightly and a thin stream of his essence drooled out, pooling against Raito’s chest and soaking into his shirt.

“Oh fuck, what have I done?’” He whispered brokenly, squeezing his eyes shut.

And for the first time since becoming Kira, an unfamiliar emotion pooled in his chest and Yagami Raito felt regret at his actions.


*************************


Well…I’m glad that’s finally done! There’s till parts of it that I’m unhappy with but I’ve been working on it for so long that I just can’t bear to look at it any longer!

FANART FROM DUOMI!
Here’s a fanart for the story that was done BEFORE IT WAS EVEN POSTED OR FINISHED! That’s how fabulously ninja she is :)

http://duomi.deviantart.com/art/Canon-Love-80397454


Chapter two is some notes on this story and a little bit that was supposed to go at the end but I changed my mind – only another 100 words or so. But it’s not another chapter at all :)

Please let me know what you thought!


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