Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Brilliance Tarnished ❯ Closer ( Chapter 7 )

A/N: I am so sorry.  That was a terribly long time between updates.  School was having its way with me, however.  But now, more fic!  I laughed myself silly writing this chapter.  XD  Maybe that's not such a good thing....!  Please take it with a grain of salt and don't hate me!

 

 

 

 

Raito stared indignantly at the door that had just closed in his face, frozen in disbelief. Didn't have any further use for him...? A flash of rage dispelled his shock and he slammed his fists against the door, snarling an unintelligible curse at the detective.

“How dare you,” he muttered in a low, deadly voice. “How dare you!” He wanted to scream out threats, but he knew very well that the room was probably bugged six ways to Sunday.

Raito tried to breathe deeply, to think calming thoughts, such as having a mental re-enactment of the first time he had taken L. I have yet to make you cry, he thought coldly, fists tightening where they rested against the door.

Humiliating. That L would speak to him in such a manner, reject him in such a manner! It was not to be borne. Oh, you'll certainly accept me, L, he thought darkly, glaring sightlessly at the door.

He straightened and slowly moved to retrieve his undergarment and his slacks, grinding his teeth as he was taunted by the extreme arousal that L had left him with. He had been fantasizing about parting those thighs and working his way into L's vulnerable center again just when he'd been shoved away and spoken to so dismissively.

If I would kill you for something, this would be it.

He drew his clothing back on, trying to will the desire away, but he was so aroused that it hurt. He couldn't believe the strength of his desire for the detective. And to think that he'd actually been courteous enough to swallow, too.

Raito resisted the urge to smash the tea set and trash the room. He would not bash the lamps into the walls. He would be restrained, and he would wait for his vengeance. Sadly enough, L was the only thing that could compromise his control in such a fashion.

Only two things mitigated his rage at the way L had treated him. When he had looked up and seen not gloating, but desire, parted lips and a flushed face tipped down towards him...that had changed the situation completely. There was also the fact that L had practically run out of the room to avoid being touched by him.

There was no doubt that he had something to work with. I can still put you in a stupor with my lips and hands, oh great detective.

After he was finished dressing, he stood motionless before the door, hands clenching and unclenching, considering his options. There was only one safe and easy place to release this sexual energy that L set to raging within him.

 

Raito grimaced as he removed his shoes in Misa's foyer, largely ignoring her fluttering delight. “I need something from you, Misa.”

“Anything, Raito-kun! What can Misa do for you? Are you hurt?” Her concerned eyes peered up at him.

“Just go and lay down on the bed,” he replied brusquely. “I've been thinking about you all day, Misa. I want to touch you.” A blatant lie, but it didn't really matter. Anything he said seemed to sound golden to any girl he said it to.

She blushed a deep shade of pink. “Raito-kun! Just...let Misa get changed so that she's pretty-pretty?”

“No, really, there's no need.” He grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom, pressing her down onto the bed. Checking his watch discreetly as he undressed her, he engaged in five tedious minutes of foreplay before he undressed himself and put on the condom he'd had in his wallet. This was all he needed.

Raito closed his eyes, imagining L's dark insomniac gaze tangling with his, their blankness an attempt to disguise the fear in their depths. “It's all right,” he whispered to them, pressing in slowly. Nails bit into his shoulder blades and he gasped with L, feeling the thrill of triumph as the watchful eyes slid closed in surrender. His to take. His to hurt. His to break.

He withdrew and drove back into that fragile, pale body as hard as he could, relishing the way the detective flinched, yet still opened to him for more. “I'll break you, break you and put you back together around me,” he growled, thrusting harder, faster. “You've always wanted this. How dare you resist me...humiliate me...you...”

From far away, Misa's voice asked him a question, but he ignored it, his focus deep inside of L's body. Plunging, plunging, diving. His essence would diffuse throughout the other boy's body, corrupt his blood.

I want to stay here inside of you, lodge myself so deeply that you can't tear me out without destroying yourself. Yes, bury all the hooks I have at my disposal into your helpless flesh...and jerk them so that they'll set.

Fists beat weakly at his shoulders. A grin split his face. That's not enough to deter me, L. You have no choices here.

The end of his endurance came suddenly and his body jerked sharply. He clung to L, gasping harshly, growling, “Ryuu, Ryuu!” at the very last. He could barely breathe. The throbbing continued for a moment as he lay there, complimenting the pounding of his heart.

The scent of perfume disturbed his moment of peace. And then the feel of softness beneath his head, and silky hair brushing his cheek instead of the expected feathery locks. Reluctantly, he raised himself up on his elbows and opened his eyes.

Misa was staring up at him as if she had never seen him before, expression petulant and betrayed. “Raito-kun was rough...and mean. And called for 'Ryuu'.” She hit him on the shoulder again. “You bruised Misa! And hurt her...it hurt.”

He smiled, doing his best to look apologetic. “Ah...I apologize, Misa. I told you that I've been longing for you.”

“Ryuu??” she prompted angrily, glaring up at him.

“Ryu. That's...my pet name for you. My little dragon. It's embarrassing, so I had hoped to never let it slip out. You don't mind, do you?” He gave her an embarrassed look.

She didn't appear convinced. “You were mumbling into my chest, and you sounded angry. What was that all about?”

“Misa...” He gave her a quelling look. “Don't you realize how tiring it is to be Kira? My mind never rests. Of course I'm muttering to myself about the injustice in this world, and I can't rest even for the few moments that I steal with my...Misa.”

She gave him an uncertain look, pushing his arm out of the way and slipping out of bed. She didn't look at him as she put her clothes back on, so he took the opportunity to get back into his own as quickly as possible.

He had left a note for L that he was going out to get cake, and so he would bring back some inferior cake for his warden. With luck, he would only have been away for forty-five minutes or so. He was damned if he would ever admit that he'd needed to sate his desire for L somewhere.

“I'm sorry, Misa, I have to go.”

She was still a moment, her back facing him. “What was that fake name that L was using before?”

Raito tensed, grateful that she wasn't looking at him at that moment. “It was Ryoga Heiki.”

Misa turned to look at him then, expression doubtful. “Are you sure? Wasn't it Hideki something? Something famous--”

“No,” he said firmly, heart speeding up again. “Why do you even ask? It was definitely Ryoga Heiki. You know that my memory is perfect.” Was he feeling...anxiety on L's behalf?

Misa didn't have a Death Note currently. He had both Notes in his private box at the bank. But couldn't Rem still access the Note and write L's name down? Despite the fact that the shinigami would die for doing something on Misa's behalf out of love, he wouldn't put it past the repulsive creature.

Could he have access to a Note one last time to write Misa's name down...? If Rem was forced to take action to preserve Misa, Rem would be neutralized, and...

Raito had the horrible urge to burst into maniacal laughter; he smiled reassuringly at Misa instead. “I'll see you soon, Misa. But I have to get back to what I was doing.”

He took his leave and excused himself as decorously as possible, but was quite relieved when he left her to retrieve cake for the ungrateful, defiant bastard who had become his law.

My law, are you, you arrogant prick? We'll just see about that. You'll be the one on your knees before me.

 

L forced himself to return to the room of operations after his little rendezvous with Raito, but found it very difficult to remain calm and focused. He felt as if he were still naked; as if everyone could see his nakedness.

Watari was at his side before he realized it, setting before him a small crystal bowl filled with Belgian chocolates. As the older man set the bowl down, he murmured, “Did your meeting go well, sir?”

“It went...reasonably well,” L replied awkwardly, refusing to meet Watari's gaze. Except that he hadn't handled the end very well. He had been terrified that if he'd stayed any longer, he would have ended up on the bed or the floor, Raito's lean body bowing and playing his.

Something in his throat tightened at the thought, and there was a stirring low in his body. You don't want that, he reminded himself. A memory floated to the surface of Raito's mouth moving, speaking, telling him that he was beautiful. No, I'm not. You're always lying. Nothing you say is the truth.

It had choked him to speak cruelly to the brunet, to humiliate him and slam the door in his face. He knew that he would pay for doing so. The other boy would be absolutely furious, massive pride bruised and bleeding. But what choice was there when his body was responding again, when his will was faltering? He could certainly not allow Raito to have his way.

“Is that so?” Watari asked softly, expression concerned.

L cursed himself when he realized that he had slipped completely into his own thoughts while Watari was standing right there, looking closely at his face. What had the small motions of his facial muscles been revealing to Watari, to Raito??

“Yes, everything is going according to plan,” he replied calmly, stuffing a few chocolates into his mouth.

Just then the door opened, Raito sauntering through with something that looked promisingly like a cake box.

L focused on the box instead of the person carrying it, as he knew how he ought to feel about the cake. Poisoned? Unlikely. I'll stay within range of Watari and the others for a few hours after I have some, just in case.

Raito came right over to him, dropping the box on the table before him as if it were a dead animal. The other boy's expression was condescending and cold, a slight sneer lurking about that passionate mouth. The sight of it twisted L's insides slightly, confusing him. He hadn't seen a look quite like this from Raito in ages.

“There you are, Ryuuzaki. As promised, cake.” Kira's eyes roamed over L's face, gaze like a scalpel searching for the perfect place to split the skin.

L shifted uncomfortably despite himself, glancing into the cake box through the small cellophane window in the top. It looked like a generic, store-bought cake that had been made a day or two ago. There was absolutely nothing special about it.

The clenching in his chest returned to haunt him, and he slowly looked up again to meet Raito's gaze against his will. “Thank you, Yagami,” he said slowly, tonelessly.

“My...pleasure,” Raito replied, baring his teeth in a disturbing mockery of a smile. With that, the brunet pivoted on his heel and returned to his workstation.

Matsuda's computer was set up beside Raito's, and the idiot leaned over to comment on how kind it had been of Raito to bring cake.

Yes, how kind, L thought bitterly, staring at the cake with a sense of loss. It made no sense. Why did he feel this way? Of course his former captor was immature enough to bring him a pathetic cake in retaliation for earlier. But where else had Raito been?

As Kira had stood glaring down at him, he had smelled perfume for just a moment.

 

 

 

 

Raito made certain to wait until L had begun eating his breakfast to interrupt him. As L opened his mouth to take a second bite of the cinnamon bun before him, Raito loomed over him, staring down at the top of that dark head with his full intensity.

L paused, slowly glancing up. “Yes?”

There was no one else in the room yet as it was still too early, but there were always microphones. Raito leaned down to whisper in L's ear, ignoring the detective's slight flinch. “If I'm allowed, I will go and retrieve your cell phone for you. I should also see Misa in some attempt to resolve half of the shinigami issue.”

L pulled back, dark eyes expressing irritation that was readable only by Raito or Watari. “No Misa. At all.” It was a direct command. There was no other interpretation.

He smirked, remaining bent over so that their faces were close, keeping his voice very low. “Oh? And why is that? Are you jealous...darling?”

Those obsidian eyes flared with anger, surprising Raito. “I should think it would be obvious, Yagami,” the detective hissed. “Why should I allow you to meet up with someone who has provided so much assistance to you?”

Raito leaned in closer, amused as found himself having to compensate for the other boy's recoil. “You've been getting on my nerves lately,” he whispered into L's ear, sliding an arm across his friend's prominent shoulder blades. “But you should get used to my meetings with Misa if you're not going to be a better fuck than she--”

Like lightning, L's hand lashed out and cracked across his cheek, forcing him to stagger backwards. Raito stared into the black eyes that spat fire at him, amazed. He touched his own burning cheek, and tasted blood from where his teeth had cut the inside of his mouth.

“Don't even presume to speak to me that way, Yagami. I owe you nothing, and you well know it. You're the one who owes me. You are never short on nerve, are you?” That typically cool, flat tone was vehement and full of leashed force.

Perhaps that hadn't been the best thing for him to say to L. But he couldn't resist provoking and tormenting the detective. And perhaps if he kept pushing that button, he would get what he wanted. As he studied those eyes, he was reminded again of how beautiful L was when he was expressive. So he said so. “You're at your most lovely when you're expressive like this.”

L glared at him as if he were insane, then turned back to his cinnamon bun. “You have permission to get the phone, but you will be observed. No detours. Now get out of of my sight. You're making me sick, and I'll be very angry if I can't finish this cinnamon bun.”

That's nothing to how angry I was when I couldn't finish, period, you prick, Raito thought acidly, turning away. But at least he had his excuse to go to the bank and write something in the Death Note.

 

 

 

 

As soon as Raito left, L stopped pretending to pick at his cinnamon bun and covered his eyes with one hand, tucking his face into his updrawn knees. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that he was feeling sick. Being touched by Raito while his strings were being jerked, being classified as an inferior fuck, especially when compared to Misa...and that, of course, told him that Raito had been intimate with Misa yesterday, just as he'd suspected.

He wasn't certain which made him sicker - being called sexually unsatisfying by his rapist, or knowing that Raito had been contaminated by Misa. It was bad enough to observe all of the faux-affection Raito exhibited towards Matsuda, but sex was...

L began chewing on his thumb determinedly, welcoming the pain as a distraction from the rapidly escalating disturbance and emotional discord within him. Raito was out of control; not under his control at all. He had to do something. Today. He would order Watari to set up a meeting, and he would bind and blindfold Raito and do his best to hurt and humiliate him. Much as it wasn't his forte, he had to do something.

But was he playing into Raito's hands by doing so? Surely his former captor couldn't predict that L would be aggressive and hurtful. Or could he? Did Raito desire even that from him? To be bound and abused by him? He rapidly wiped the images from his mind, too aware of the effect they were having on him.

I'm sick, he thought glumly. But if he was sick, Raito was most certainly much sicker. Deranged, even. But feeling satisfied with comparing himself to Raito was a major concern in and of itself. When had the brunet begun to seem normal to him??

It was as if his friend had found some heretofore hidden and latent side of him - a side that would have been better off remaining buried and unknown.

He heard the door slide open, and jerked his head back up, snatching his cinnamon bun as if his life depended on it. Watari was already looking at him as if concerned, however, which never boded well for him.

“Sir? What's amiss?” Watari's voice was reassuringly kind but firm, as always.

“Nothing,” he replied with studied nonchalance. “Why would you think that anything was amiss?”

Watari set down the coffee decanter he was carrying on the nearest desk, approaching L. “Something has been wrong ever since you returned, even though you will not confide in me. You have also never remained out of contact with me before, which I found very distressing. I had begun to fear the worst. Even though I have been with you for so long, sir, there are still matters with which you will not trust me.” The older man's expression was weary and saddened.

L felt the unwanted ping of guilt and hunched his shoulders a little more. “Watari, it's not...it's not that I don't trust you. It's just that some things cannot be shared. You understand that, don't you?”

His assistant's gaze scrutinized him, sharp and dissatisfied, but also discouraged. “No, I don't understand, sir. All I know is that it has something to do with Yagami-kun.”

“But you're not here to question me,” L gently reminded Watari, hating himself for the wall that he was building between them by doing so.

Watari stiffened slightly, returning to retrieve his tray. “You're correct, of course. Forgive me for intruding, sir.” The man who had always been L's caretaker busied himself at the table that had been set aside for refreshment, setting up the morning's coffee.

“I'll need to meet with that person again, Watari. Today. And please provide...no, never mind. Just have it ready and coordinate it to occur early this afternoon. It doesn't matter what time.”

Watari's disapproval was palpable in the long, silent pause before his response. “Of course, sir.”

L flinched internally, but he wouldn't allow anyone to discourage him from training Raito. It was the only way to keep the other boy alive.

 

 

 

 

As soon as Raito reached the safety of the bank's privacy room, he flung open the safe deposit box. L's cell phone was dead since it hadn't been charged recently. No issue there. He tucked it into his pocket. Beneath it lay both Death Notes. He lifted them out gently, smiling to himself.

In his own Death Note, he wrote Misa's name, then the sequence of events: that someone in Misa's agency released all her personal information out onto the internet, that several people with homicidal tendencies saw it, and that one of them would kill Misa. He left the specifics as vague as possible, hoping to give the Death Note more room in which to work. It would be so perfect if events actually went his way.

Raito briefly considered tearing the page out to cover his tracks in case L gained unexpected access to his box, but he had no way to securely hide it where it would not be discovered. He was also certain that he had shaken his surveillance before making his way to the bank, so L still wouldn't know where to look for the notebooks. The false name he had chosen was just as ambiguous as the one he had rented the apartment under, but utterly unconnected to anything else.

He was also quite confident that said surveillance would never confess to L that the target, himself, had temporarily been lost. L, still remaining naïve in some ways, would likely not suspect that such would occur without his knowledge. But Raito knew that most people would never confess a failure to an employer. So that was one less thing to be concerned about.

Unfortunately, even if things with Misa went perfectly, he still had Ryuk to worry about. The shinigami would likely only laugh if Raito tried to offer part of his lifespan and L's, considering that Ryuk could take however much of it he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Even if Raito came up with another plan, he would have to keep it a secret from L; the detective would never sanction anything that involved the Death Note or its continued usage.

Frowning, he replaced the Death Notes in the safe deposit box and closed it up. He would just have to come up with another idea.

 

 

 

 

L tried to pretend that he wasn't immediately alert and focused on Raito when the other boy strode in. Raito detoured to the refreshment table and made himself a cup of coffee at a rather leisurely pace, gazing at the spread of food on the table as if considering a sandwich or a bagel.

Please. You don't care about bagels. Stop dawdling already. The delay was chafing upon his nerves to a surprising degree. Who cared if Raito stared at bagels all day long? He could choke on them for all L cared.

Eventually, Raito pivoted and began to stroll casually his way, in no apparent rush to reach him. Those eyes weren't even on him - they were occupied in returning a convincing smile to Matsuda.

L felt his jaw clench. He's doing this deliberately. But I don't have to allow the provocation. He went back to paging through the useless statistics that he held in his hand, never bothering to read them. It was laughable, considering that Kira was right before him. If only the others knew what he knew. On second thought, he was glad that they didn't. No one needed to know the things he knew about Raito. Or about himself, for that matter.

“Ah, you look as if you're deep in thought, Ryuuzaki. Shall I return another day? I have the item that you wanted.”

That warm voice melted over his thoughts like caramel, forcing them to grind to a halt. He glanced up at Raito. “Good.” He gestured discreetly for Raito to lean down.

The other boy slanted him a perplexed look, but complied.

L reached up as if to cup Raito's ear, but jerked a lock of his hair sharply instead, satisfied to hear the pained intake of breath from his former captor. “I have business with you this afternoon. Watari will give you the details.” He released Raito's silken hair.

He hated the way the brunet short-circuited his brain. One way or another, he had to end their charade, their game. Otherwise...otherwise, he could be the one to lose. If the current trend persisted... Much as it galled him to admit it, he would lose.

Raito straightened, expression annoyed. “Indeed.” With that, the other boy returned to his workstation - and to Matsuda's cloying affections.

This time...this time, I'll show Raito clearly, in a way that he understands.