Sweet Little Lies

Kira Is Close; Light Yagami Is Closer

An avalanche of fervour submerged the two men into a rapturous grave, as Light's palms feebly attempted a secure grip against bathroom tile.

"Keep—keep 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉-𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆"

"Of course"

Arms outstretched to stay situated. This young man had his back to the slender hips that pushed into him rapidly—rising them both to the precipice of release.

Pelvis was propelled by the intensely watching gaze of brown eyes between strewn, wet brunette locks—analysing with great engrossment, the sight over a right shoulder.

Moans were not muffled by the rain of shower spray. The boy was loud; L relished it. The anticipation of that uncontrollable voice, the repetitive whimpers of gratification, was quelled with every second L delivered pleasure unto him. He did not have to wait long, for the cravings of those sweet expressions of submission; of elation, for they were frequent, and ever so loud. The detective held his absurdly perfect companion at his hips to steady him. Light's legs were shaking and the spread of his fingers were faltering against the wall. But it was oh so endearing that L could unravel him so; unravel his incredible friend so much that his undeniable strength turned dwindling when friction of smooth, wet ceramic, was non existent against silken skin alike to liquid gold.

Trickles of water accentuated every subtle groove of shuddering muscle in the boy's back, as if with urge to also travel the paths L's gently appreciating fingers had already created. How dare they touch his prize, with no feeling; no sentience that the detective held for his adoration to exist. Light's skin deserved touches directed with passionate motivation. Or what was the point? Nevertheless, L could not complain.

L's current situation came about when his friend had ultimately changed his mind—deciding to shower anyway. Had he secretly planned for this to happen? Two pairs of differing eyes caught blatant sight of the others' body and hands could not help to reach out in desperation. Contrasting to Light's request that the two '𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕' (a request that the detective had secretly been pining for from the start, for sleep was no importance) they were not talking much 𝒏𝒐𝒘. Is this what Light Yagami had meant by 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈? Figuratively, their bodies conversed lengthily, when mouths could not.

"Is this what Light Yagami meant—meant by 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈?"

L's pace slowed slightly, as if that would aid in Light's concentration toward what the detective spoke of. It did not, and L found it amusing as his friend frowned in contemplation; performing the question again within his brain at a slower rate for increased comprehension.

"N—𝒏𝒐 but. This, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆"

His blush grew. The detective doubted red could be any more saturated when the rising steam was so hot.

L leaned forward, bending his torso against the line of Light's body. He wanted to whisper—the boy liked that. But it was so noisy in their glass box—water pounded hard; L's voice habitually quiet, so he decided to raise it when annunciating close to Light's ear.

"𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊"

Light groaned more and it was so easy to unwrap his enigma with well placed words. The detective felt...𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚? As if he knew his friend to a substantial degree in order to do this. No one else could. But how would Light respond? 𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 he be honest? Would he be 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕?

"You feel 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆. I think, I think you're the only one who could...who could d-𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆"

Divine. It was an interesting description. One Kira would be unlikely to use; one 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 would be unlikely to use. He must feel strongly? 𝑹𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕? Whether truth or no, logic left L's body. Emotions overwhelmed the pit of his stomach with stars and he tingled all over.