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A few fics
I'm posting a few fics here that were scattered among various comms, basically just to have them all in the same place.
Title: Reflect
Author: Sulwen
Pairing: Light/L
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers for about the first half of the anime, I think.
Wordcount: 3000
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Summary: Shameless handcuff smut. Light’s mind never stops working, even in the most distracting of circumstances.
A/N: First fic in the fandom. I haven’t even finished watching the anime yet, but I couldn’t wait to start writing. Please forgive any newbie mistakes or clichés!
Light lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. The bed was soft beneath him, a luxury he’d not felt in almost two months on a hard prison cot. The handcuff was new and unfamiliar on his wrist, and the fingers of his other hand crept along the sheet to run over the cool metal. It was not tight, but the metal dug into his skin and the chain rasped loudly against the bed frame at the slightest movement. He wondered how long L planned to keep them chained like this. This morning, in the daylight and with all the team gathered around, L had somehow made the handcuffs seem obvious, the clear thing to do in their situation. But here, in the dark, he was only now beginning to realize what he’d agreed to. He’d been able to cope with the cell. He would have been all right with being chained to one of the other team members, or a pole, or back in prison. But this was L. Up to this point, he’d been able to keep his thoughts regarding L strictly business. Now, without a scant moment of privacy, the personal was sure to bleed through - and Light was afraid of what would happen then. There was a reason for his self-enforced restraint when thinking about L - a good reason. Each new experience, each small measure of closeness gained acted like a battering ram against that restraint, and Light knew he couldn’t hold out for long.
He rolled onto his side, grating his teeth at the noise of the chain, and looked at L, who appeared to be sleeping deeply. Light had never seen L asleep before, and it was odd. He became a different person altogether when those big, staring eyes were closed. He’d fallen asleep curled into a tight ball that approximated his customary sitting position, but as consciousness faded, his body had relaxed into its current state, sprawled out across the bed with the cuffed hand hanging carelessly off the edge. His face had loosened, and the corners of his mouth were lax, settling into a neutral expression. Light realized that he was so used to seeing a pensive frown on L’s face that the blankness actually looked a bit like a smile. He wondered what it was that made L so serious all the time, and imagined what his face would look like if he were ever to truly grin.
With a start, Light, realized he was smiling fondly himself. His eyes narrowed and the smile disappeared, and a wave of darkness rushed over him - for a moment, he glared at L and wished for his death so fiercely that he almost could have believed L’s theory about him unknowingly being Kira. Confused and distressed, he flung himself onto his other side, hoping that sleep would come and relieve his overworked mind at least until morning. The chain clinked again, and then, to Light’s horror, grew taut and pulled the cuff sharply against his wrist. There was no way L had slept through that, and indeed, in the next moment, a dark, quizzical voice flowed softly through the room.
“Light? Are you all right?” L asked.
Light grimaced and replied without turning. “Yes, I’m fine. My apologies, Ryuzaki. I’m not used to this chain just yet.”
L made a small noise of acknowledgement. “It’s all right, Light-kun. I’ve never been chained before, either.”
This comment was made in a heavy tone that made Light wonder whether it was true or not, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it aloud. For the first time, he thought about where the handcuffs had come from. Not that it was curious for a detective to have a pair of handcuffs, but these weren’t standard - the long, thin chain connecting them made this particular pair perfect for their current use. Had L been planning this long enough to have them specially made? Or were these cuffs left over from some previous case? The image of L chained to some other suspected criminal made Light tense, and the darkness rushed over him again. He made no reply, and the chain broke the silence again as L rose from his bed, walking so softly that Light would not have heard him at all if not for the clinking metal.
L perched on the floor by the bed, eye to eye with Light. His eyes were no less intense than usual, but to Light - and it may just have been a trick of the darkness - it seemed that there was a gentleness he’d never seen there before.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Light-kun?” L asked, barely loud enough to understand.
Light shivered, feeling strangely intimate in this position, L focusing so closely on him. He could still feel the cold darkness on him, and it was telling him to stay behind his walls, push L away as hard as he could, because letting him in was dangerous. But the other part of him, the spark of light and warmth struggling against the dark, was pleading with him to answer, to reach out in any way he could. He stared back at L, who waited, ever patient, for his reply.
Finally, Light spoke, and the act of speaking brought with it an unfamiliar fear. “I’m cold,” he said, even though he wasn’t.
L nodded. “Would you like another blanket? I might be able to reach the closet from here.”
Light shook his head. “No.”
Silence filled the room, and they seemed to be at an impasse, neither able to move forward. In the next moment, everything changed. L had always had a knack for making the strange look normal, and when he climbed gracefully into Light’s bed, he did it with an easy familiarity only L could have pulled off. Light stiffened as L lay next to him and wrapped an arm around his chest, legs pulled up tight beneath him.
“Is that better, Light-kun?” he asked, and Light shuddered at that deep, quiet voice in his ear.
His mind churned, frantically trying to apply logic to the situation, but there was no rationality to it. He could find nothing to say. Time passed, and Light’s heart raced, desperately full of anticipation and dread of L’s next move. But L simply lay still, his breath as calm and steady as if he were sleeping. The chain lay on the bed in between their bodies, warming against bare skin. As the minutes slipped by, Light slowly began to relax. It was rather pleasant, feeling the solid warmth of L’s skin, the pulsing heat of his breath in the cool night air. Eventually, the warmth and the quiet breathing added to Light’s own exhaustion and began to lull him to sleep. As he sank into a doze, Light suddenly became hyper-aware of a loop of chain digging uncomfortably into his leg. Halfway between sleep and awake, he fidgeted until he found a more comfortable position on his side, fully clear of the annoyance of the chain. He settled into the new position with a soft noise of contentment, ready to embrace sleep.
A moment later, he jerked back to full wakefulness, eyes wide and staring into pools of black. Some deep, dark corner of his brain was screaming at him, but to do what he didn’t know. All thought was drowned out by simple physical fact: eye to eye with L again, so close they were almost touching, mirror-images of each other. Breath rushed and mingled between them, brushing gently across his lips. L’s arm was still draped over Light’s body, hand suspended in midair. As they stared at each other, that hand began to move. Long, pale fingers stroked gently down Light’s bare arm, sending a shudder through his body. L didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, ever implacable. For once - for once Light didn’t think about his next move, just drew his hand up and laid it lightly over L’s, not pushing it away, not pulling it close, simply accepting.
For L, it was enough. He had been so still for so long that when he suddenly moved, Light caught his breath, and so his lips were ever so slightly parted when L kissed him. For a moment, they froze, eyes wide open. Then Light felt L’s lips begin to move, and suddenly a vivid memory of L eating ice cream flashed into his mind. He could see the way L licked his sticky fingers, how his lips and tongue moved to get every last bit of sweetness. Light wondered if he would taste sweet even now, and the thought made him smile into L’s kiss. And then all thought was washed away in pure sensation, and as the kiss deepened, their bodies moved instinctively closer together, hands separating to wrap around each other again.
At first, the kiss was pleasant, nice. But as L straightened his legs and pressed his lower body flush against Light’s, a fire within Light seemed to flare into life, sending and uncontrollable heat through his veins and spurring him into almost frenzied action. Forcing L onto his back, Light settled on top of him, bodies finding ways to fit together. Light lunged to rejoin their kiss, devouring L’s lips, tasting him with his tongue, somehow excited and infuriated both at L’s easy submission. Riding that wave of emotion, Light moved downward, lips ghosting across L’s neck before he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin there. At the same time, he thrust his hips into L, hardness brushing tantalizingly against hardness. And Light grinned, victorious, as L finally cried out, cool, calm exterior shattered under Light’s touch. Immediately addicted to the sound of L’s moans, Light slipped a hand below the waistband of L’s pants, taking his hard length in his warm palm and stroking almost too tight. Lips just brushing L’s ear, he spoke softly as he moved.
“Is this what you wanted, Ryuzaki? Is this what you hoped to find in my bed?” he asked, tone almost cruel.
L spoke between gasps, struggling to control his tone. “I see the way you look at me, Light-kun. There is a limit to even my patience.”
Light froze, hand still wrapped around L, lips resting just against his ear. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
Opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Light, L replied, “This will all come to an end, you know, sooner or later. You were wasting what time we have. I decided it was time to stop letting you.”
Light stared into those fathomless eyes and wondered, not for the first time, what exactly was going on behind them. Then L arched up against him again and threw his head back, baring his neck for Light to see the marks already darkening on his pale skin. The needs of the his body once again overwhelmed Light’s mind, and his hands flew into action, stripping off the soft pants both he and L used for sleeping, desperate for more skin, more contact. This done, he sat back on his heels, unknowingly mimicking L’s usual stance, to admire the sight before him. L was equally pale all over, soft and smooth under Light’s hands, barely muscled at all save for his legs. A smile tugged at Light’s lips at L’s ever-present quirkiness - even here, in the midst of this act that felt so natural, so instinctive, L defied all expectation. At the moment, L was staring up at him with half-lidded eyes, and Light wondered what his own looked like, hovering here like a warlord over a captive maiden girl. Then L reached out a hand and began to stroke him, and Light had to stop thinking yet again.
Making a sound almost akin to a growl, Light grabbed L’s hands at the wrist and forced them up above his head as he threw his body down on L’s, warmth and smooth skin everywhere. Not quite knowing why he did so, Light took the loose coil of chain and looped it tightly around L’s wrists, pulling until the metal dug harshly into his skin. There he paused, breathing hard, to once again take stock of the situation. He marveled at how good it felt to force his will on L, to wrench control back from the one who kept taking it out of his hands. More surprising still was the look on L’s face, one that spoke of pleasure more than pain even as Light increased the pressure. He had the strange sensation of pieces suddenly falling into place, something akin to vertigo, but rather than that momentary terrifying wrongness, a sweeping rightness filled him. He and L were pieces, and they fit.
“I can see you thinking.” L was staring up at him again, suddenly solemn. “What is there to think about?”
And that was all it took; that barely-there tone of haughtiness, of dismissal, of superiority was enough to bring back a bit - just enough - of that Kira-like darkness. It freed Light from the constraints of society, of his own moral code, of all doubt, hesitation, and regret. Moments later, after a quick bit of maneuvering, he thrust - and was inside L. A cry tore through the room, the loudest sound that Light had ever heard L make, and he wondered if he’d hurt him, had gone too far, too fast. But in the next moment, L brought his legs up and wrapped them around Light’s waist, pulling him even closer, and Light gave himself up to the sensation and began to move.
Everything blurred together - long, deep thrusts that sent shock waves through him, one hand tangled in chain and L’s fingers and more chain, the other buried in messy black hair, pulling L’s head back to expose the neck, lips moving along that curve of flesh, worrying at his earlobe, whispering every horrible thing he’s imagined L has ever thought about him.
“I know you want me to be Kira, Ryuzaki. You want him, and you want me, and you want me to be him. All the power, the challenge, the genius that Kira embodies - you want it here, now, fucking you, forcing you. Should I grant your wish, Ryuzaki? Stare into your eyes and whisper I am Kira?” Light released L’s hair and moved his hand between them, stroking L as he spoke, hand moving in time with his hips. “Is that what you want, L?” he asked, and though Light couldn’t decipher words from the sounds he heard, he took them as a yes anyway.
He pulled his head back until they were face to face again, eyes mere inches apart. Light gasped at the new intimacy this position brought to what was happening and at first could do nothing but savor it. Then, narrowing his eyes and twisting his lips into a smirk, he stroked faster, thrust deep, and said in a low, dangerous voice, “I. Am. Kira.”
It was enough to send L over the edge, and Light felt hot wetness cover both of their torsos, coating already sweat-slick bodies. Feeling utterly victorious, Light thrust into L with renewed passion, pace quickening and quickening until he could bear no more and tumbled over the edge himself, coming deep within L as light flared in the darkness behind his eyes.
Sated, he let himself fall onto the body beneath him, and they lay there unmoving as heartbeats slowed and skin cooled, breathing returning to normal. Eventually, inevitably, rational thought came back as well - and suddenly, the possible consequences of what he had said, what he had done appeared vividly in Light’s mind. He froze, stunned at himself, totally unsure of what to do now. He hadn’t expected to be running damage control on this particular situation.
“Light-kun? You’re all stiff. What is it?” L, once again soft-spoken, serious, and totally in control.
Light didn’t answer. It couldn’t have been more obvious. He wanted to run, to get out of there and be alone so he could think. For the first time, he felt the sense of claustrophobia that came with being handcuffed, the sheer lack of choices. He could run - but no matter how far he went, L would be with him. That deep, persistent bit of his mind caught that thought and whispered something about how that problem went deeper than the chain, had become something far more permanent, but he couldn’t think about that now. He simply waited, wondering if this was it, if what he had done counted as a confession.
Slowly, L twisted his wrists, freeing them from the chain, and placed his hands on Light’s cheeks, turning his head and forcing eye contact again. Light could see his reflection in the darkness of L’s eyes, and he imagined he could even see the fear on his own face. L gave him a slight, sad smile and said, “Don’t worry, Light-kun. We’re not to the endgame - not yet.”
Light relaxed a bit, but in place of the fear came anger. “And yet your percentage has gone up,” he said, almost accusatory.
L shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Light felt their roles shifting, moving back to the cold everyday distance, and suddenly that separate emptiness was more terrifying than the closeness. Unsure, hesitant to act, Light didn’t respond, just raised himself off of L’s body and lay down on his side, facing away from L, waiting for him to get up and go back to his own bed. And tomorrow it would be as if nothing had ever happened. They would continue the investigation, both knowing, somehow, that they were just waiting, as L said, for the endgame. But L did not get up. Instead, he rolled over, curled his legs up under his body, and wrapped an arm around Light’s chest, pressing up against his back. Adjusting the sheet over their entwined bodies, he settled back into the slow, even breathing of sleep, And, for once, Light felt at peace. Tomorrow would bring lies and deceit, suspicion and death - but for now, for tonight, all that was swept aside, and it was enough to simply be together, quiet and satisfied in the deep of the night.
Title: Superstar
Fandom: Ouran High
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: PG, for kissing and angst
Wordcount: 826
Summary: Sometimes friends can be crueler than enemies.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Author's Note: This was written for a challenge here: http://community.livejournal.com/otw_onlinecon/718.html
The prompt was "Ouran High School Host Club - Tamaki and/or another character, superstar"
I had to edit the version I posted for the challenge because it was too long, so this is the full version. This is my first fic in this fandom (and my first fic for ANY anime), so please excuse any newbie mistakes you may see!
Tamaki grinned to himself, waving as another satisfied customer departed the third music room. Stretching languorously, he closed his eyes and proclaimed, “Ah, I amaze myself! I swear, if there were contests for the best host in Japan, I would win without question…I am, in fact, the ultimate superstar of the hosting world!” He whirled around dramatically and posed for the only other member of the club currently present.
Kyouya looked markedly unimpressed, eyes fixed on his clipboard. “You have no evidence on which to base your theory. Merely gaining the most designations among our club gives you no right to consider yourself the best in Japan. Moreover, you have set no qualifications by which the term “superstar” is to be defined.”
Falling out of his pose, Tamaki tapped his chin and considered this. “Hmm…how would you define a superstar, then?” he asked.
“Well, as our business is more about suspension of disbelief than anything - the girls know at heart, of course, that what they experience is an act - that a true superstar would have to be able to make anyone who walked in that door believe he was acting out of true feeling and forget that it was all made up,” Kyouya replied, glancing at Tamaki over his glasses.
Slowly, a smirk spread over Tamaki’s face, and Kyouya was immediately on guard. “What?” he asked. When no answer came, he shrugged. “Fine. Don’t tell me your plan. But don’t expect the club to finance it, whatever it is.”
Not uttering a word, Tamaki flounced out of the room, leaving Kyouya shaking his head and wondering what exactly his friend was up to this time.
The next day, Haruhi wandered into the third music room, and Kyouya forget about the superstar discussion entirely.
But a week later, Kyouya found himself woken in the middle of the night by someone entering his bedroom. Blinking in the darkness, unable to see anything clearly without his glasses, he would have been afraid if not for the blob of blonde hair floating by the bed. “Tamaki?” he asked, yawning. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
The other boy didn’t answer the question, just stood there, too still and too quiet. Suddenly, Kyouya was paying very close attention. Grabbing his glasses from the table by his bed, he put them on hastily and pulled Tamaki by one arm until they were sitting on the bed side-by-side. “Tell me. What is it?” he asked.
Tamaki looked up at him, utterly serious. “Kyouya…we’ve been friends for a while now, right?” he asked. “And…I could tell you anything, couldn’t I?”
“Of course.” Kyouya watched his friend’s expression carefully, as always, and for a moment, Tamaki’s ever-present act fell away, and he could see the immense loneliness that was beneath all the theatrics. He rested a comforting hand on Tamaki’s shoulder and waited.
Finally, the other boy met his gaze again, eyes shining with unshed tears. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought up a hand of his own and rested it on Kyouya’s cheek. Slowly, impossibly slowly, he moved his face closer to Kyouya’s, eyes falling to his lips. Kyouya felt his breath catch, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. There was no time to catalogue and assess his own feelings on what was happening. All he could do was see the pain in his friend’s eyes, and know that he would do anything to take that pain away.
When their lips met, Kyouya felt a shock go through his body like nothing he’d felt before. It was the most chaste of kisses, barely even touching, but he was instantly aroused by it - perhaps more by the thought that he was kissing Tamaki, Tamaki, than by anything else. Unable to help himself, his arms went around the other boy’s neck, deepening the kiss, and suddenly everything was open, hungry mouths and entwining tongues, and Kyouya was drowning in the sensation of it.
Finally, they parted, both flushed and panting. For a moment, their eyes locked, and emotions swirled between them. Kyouya licked his lips and attempted to put words to what he was feeling, but all that came out was a breathless whisper of “Tamaki….”
And then the world shattered. Tamaki grinned, that wonderful, heartbreaking grin of his, and stood up, raking a hand carelessly through his tousled hair. “You see, Kyouya? I really am a superstar!” he gloated. Then, blowing a playful kiss back to Kyouya, he pranced on his merry way, out into the night.
Kyouya sat uncomprehending for a minute, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Then, methodical as always, he removed his glasses and folded them onto the side table, settled himself under the covers, and, to all appearances, went back to sleep.
And if in the morning his eyes were a bit redder than usual and there were tearstains on the pillowcase, well, no one ever had to know.
Title: Reflect
Author: Sulwen
Pairing: Light/L
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers for about the first half of the anime, I think.
Wordcount: 3000
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Summary: Shameless handcuff smut. Light’s mind never stops working, even in the most distracting of circumstances.
A/N: First fic in the fandom. I haven’t even finished watching the anime yet, but I couldn’t wait to start writing. Please forgive any newbie mistakes or clichés!
Light lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. The bed was soft beneath him, a luxury he’d not felt in almost two months on a hard prison cot. The handcuff was new and unfamiliar on his wrist, and the fingers of his other hand crept along the sheet to run over the cool metal. It was not tight, but the metal dug into his skin and the chain rasped loudly against the bed frame at the slightest movement. He wondered how long L planned to keep them chained like this. This morning, in the daylight and with all the team gathered around, L had somehow made the handcuffs seem obvious, the clear thing to do in their situation. But here, in the dark, he was only now beginning to realize what he’d agreed to. He’d been able to cope with the cell. He would have been all right with being chained to one of the other team members, or a pole, or back in prison. But this was L. Up to this point, he’d been able to keep his thoughts regarding L strictly business. Now, without a scant moment of privacy, the personal was sure to bleed through - and Light was afraid of what would happen then. There was a reason for his self-enforced restraint when thinking about L - a good reason. Each new experience, each small measure of closeness gained acted like a battering ram against that restraint, and Light knew he couldn’t hold out for long.
He rolled onto his side, grating his teeth at the noise of the chain, and looked at L, who appeared to be sleeping deeply. Light had never seen L asleep before, and it was odd. He became a different person altogether when those big, staring eyes were closed. He’d fallen asleep curled into a tight ball that approximated his customary sitting position, but as consciousness faded, his body had relaxed into its current state, sprawled out across the bed with the cuffed hand hanging carelessly off the edge. His face had loosened, and the corners of his mouth were lax, settling into a neutral expression. Light realized that he was so used to seeing a pensive frown on L’s face that the blankness actually looked a bit like a smile. He wondered what it was that made L so serious all the time, and imagined what his face would look like if he were ever to truly grin.
With a start, Light, realized he was smiling fondly himself. His eyes narrowed and the smile disappeared, and a wave of darkness rushed over him - for a moment, he glared at L and wished for his death so fiercely that he almost could have believed L’s theory about him unknowingly being Kira. Confused and distressed, he flung himself onto his other side, hoping that sleep would come and relieve his overworked mind at least until morning. The chain clinked again, and then, to Light’s horror, grew taut and pulled the cuff sharply against his wrist. There was no way L had slept through that, and indeed, in the next moment, a dark, quizzical voice flowed softly through the room.
“Light? Are you all right?” L asked.
Light grimaced and replied without turning. “Yes, I’m fine. My apologies, Ryuzaki. I’m not used to this chain just yet.”
L made a small noise of acknowledgement. “It’s all right, Light-kun. I’ve never been chained before, either.”
This comment was made in a heavy tone that made Light wonder whether it was true or not, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it aloud. For the first time, he thought about where the handcuffs had come from. Not that it was curious for a detective to have a pair of handcuffs, but these weren’t standard - the long, thin chain connecting them made this particular pair perfect for their current use. Had L been planning this long enough to have them specially made? Or were these cuffs left over from some previous case? The image of L chained to some other suspected criminal made Light tense, and the darkness rushed over him again. He made no reply, and the chain broke the silence again as L rose from his bed, walking so softly that Light would not have heard him at all if not for the clinking metal.
L perched on the floor by the bed, eye to eye with Light. His eyes were no less intense than usual, but to Light - and it may just have been a trick of the darkness - it seemed that there was a gentleness he’d never seen there before.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Light-kun?” L asked, barely loud enough to understand.
Light shivered, feeling strangely intimate in this position, L focusing so closely on him. He could still feel the cold darkness on him, and it was telling him to stay behind his walls, push L away as hard as he could, because letting him in was dangerous. But the other part of him, the spark of light and warmth struggling against the dark, was pleading with him to answer, to reach out in any way he could. He stared back at L, who waited, ever patient, for his reply.
Finally, Light spoke, and the act of speaking brought with it an unfamiliar fear. “I’m cold,” he said, even though he wasn’t.
L nodded. “Would you like another blanket? I might be able to reach the closet from here.”
Light shook his head. “No.”
Silence filled the room, and they seemed to be at an impasse, neither able to move forward. In the next moment, everything changed. L had always had a knack for making the strange look normal, and when he climbed gracefully into Light’s bed, he did it with an easy familiarity only L could have pulled off. Light stiffened as L lay next to him and wrapped an arm around his chest, legs pulled up tight beneath him.
“Is that better, Light-kun?” he asked, and Light shuddered at that deep, quiet voice in his ear.
His mind churned, frantically trying to apply logic to the situation, but there was no rationality to it. He could find nothing to say. Time passed, and Light’s heart raced, desperately full of anticipation and dread of L’s next move. But L simply lay still, his breath as calm and steady as if he were sleeping. The chain lay on the bed in between their bodies, warming against bare skin. As the minutes slipped by, Light slowly began to relax. It was rather pleasant, feeling the solid warmth of L’s skin, the pulsing heat of his breath in the cool night air. Eventually, the warmth and the quiet breathing added to Light’s own exhaustion and began to lull him to sleep. As he sank into a doze, Light suddenly became hyper-aware of a loop of chain digging uncomfortably into his leg. Halfway between sleep and awake, he fidgeted until he found a more comfortable position on his side, fully clear of the annoyance of the chain. He settled into the new position with a soft noise of contentment, ready to embrace sleep.
A moment later, he jerked back to full wakefulness, eyes wide and staring into pools of black. Some deep, dark corner of his brain was screaming at him, but to do what he didn’t know. All thought was drowned out by simple physical fact: eye to eye with L again, so close they were almost touching, mirror-images of each other. Breath rushed and mingled between them, brushing gently across his lips. L’s arm was still draped over Light’s body, hand suspended in midair. As they stared at each other, that hand began to move. Long, pale fingers stroked gently down Light’s bare arm, sending a shudder through his body. L didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, ever implacable. For once - for once Light didn’t think about his next move, just drew his hand up and laid it lightly over L’s, not pushing it away, not pulling it close, simply accepting.
For L, it was enough. He had been so still for so long that when he suddenly moved, Light caught his breath, and so his lips were ever so slightly parted when L kissed him. For a moment, they froze, eyes wide open. Then Light felt L’s lips begin to move, and suddenly a vivid memory of L eating ice cream flashed into his mind. He could see the way L licked his sticky fingers, how his lips and tongue moved to get every last bit of sweetness. Light wondered if he would taste sweet even now, and the thought made him smile into L’s kiss. And then all thought was washed away in pure sensation, and as the kiss deepened, their bodies moved instinctively closer together, hands separating to wrap around each other again.
At first, the kiss was pleasant, nice. But as L straightened his legs and pressed his lower body flush against Light’s, a fire within Light seemed to flare into life, sending and uncontrollable heat through his veins and spurring him into almost frenzied action. Forcing L onto his back, Light settled on top of him, bodies finding ways to fit together. Light lunged to rejoin their kiss, devouring L’s lips, tasting him with his tongue, somehow excited and infuriated both at L’s easy submission. Riding that wave of emotion, Light moved downward, lips ghosting across L’s neck before he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin there. At the same time, he thrust his hips into L, hardness brushing tantalizingly against hardness. And Light grinned, victorious, as L finally cried out, cool, calm exterior shattered under Light’s touch. Immediately addicted to the sound of L’s moans, Light slipped a hand below the waistband of L’s pants, taking his hard length in his warm palm and stroking almost too tight. Lips just brushing L’s ear, he spoke softly as he moved.
“Is this what you wanted, Ryuzaki? Is this what you hoped to find in my bed?” he asked, tone almost cruel.
L spoke between gasps, struggling to control his tone. “I see the way you look at me, Light-kun. There is a limit to even my patience.”
Light froze, hand still wrapped around L, lips resting just against his ear. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
Opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Light, L replied, “This will all come to an end, you know, sooner or later. You were wasting what time we have. I decided it was time to stop letting you.”
Light stared into those fathomless eyes and wondered, not for the first time, what exactly was going on behind them. Then L arched up against him again and threw his head back, baring his neck for Light to see the marks already darkening on his pale skin. The needs of the his body once again overwhelmed Light’s mind, and his hands flew into action, stripping off the soft pants both he and L used for sleeping, desperate for more skin, more contact. This done, he sat back on his heels, unknowingly mimicking L’s usual stance, to admire the sight before him. L was equally pale all over, soft and smooth under Light’s hands, barely muscled at all save for his legs. A smile tugged at Light’s lips at L’s ever-present quirkiness - even here, in the midst of this act that felt so natural, so instinctive, L defied all expectation. At the moment, L was staring up at him with half-lidded eyes, and Light wondered what his own looked like, hovering here like a warlord over a captive maiden girl. Then L reached out a hand and began to stroke him, and Light had to stop thinking yet again.
Making a sound almost akin to a growl, Light grabbed L’s hands at the wrist and forced them up above his head as he threw his body down on L’s, warmth and smooth skin everywhere. Not quite knowing why he did so, Light took the loose coil of chain and looped it tightly around L’s wrists, pulling until the metal dug harshly into his skin. There he paused, breathing hard, to once again take stock of the situation. He marveled at how good it felt to force his will on L, to wrench control back from the one who kept taking it out of his hands. More surprising still was the look on L’s face, one that spoke of pleasure more than pain even as Light increased the pressure. He had the strange sensation of pieces suddenly falling into place, something akin to vertigo, but rather than that momentary terrifying wrongness, a sweeping rightness filled him. He and L were pieces, and they fit.
“I can see you thinking.” L was staring up at him again, suddenly solemn. “What is there to think about?”
And that was all it took; that barely-there tone of haughtiness, of dismissal, of superiority was enough to bring back a bit - just enough - of that Kira-like darkness. It freed Light from the constraints of society, of his own moral code, of all doubt, hesitation, and regret. Moments later, after a quick bit of maneuvering, he thrust - and was inside L. A cry tore through the room, the loudest sound that Light had ever heard L make, and he wondered if he’d hurt him, had gone too far, too fast. But in the next moment, L brought his legs up and wrapped them around Light’s waist, pulling him even closer, and Light gave himself up to the sensation and began to move.
Everything blurred together - long, deep thrusts that sent shock waves through him, one hand tangled in chain and L’s fingers and more chain, the other buried in messy black hair, pulling L’s head back to expose the neck, lips moving along that curve of flesh, worrying at his earlobe, whispering every horrible thing he’s imagined L has ever thought about him.
“I know you want me to be Kira, Ryuzaki. You want him, and you want me, and you want me to be him. All the power, the challenge, the genius that Kira embodies - you want it here, now, fucking you, forcing you. Should I grant your wish, Ryuzaki? Stare into your eyes and whisper I am Kira?” Light released L’s hair and moved his hand between them, stroking L as he spoke, hand moving in time with his hips. “Is that what you want, L?” he asked, and though Light couldn’t decipher words from the sounds he heard, he took them as a yes anyway.
He pulled his head back until they were face to face again, eyes mere inches apart. Light gasped at the new intimacy this position brought to what was happening and at first could do nothing but savor it. Then, narrowing his eyes and twisting his lips into a smirk, he stroked faster, thrust deep, and said in a low, dangerous voice, “I. Am. Kira.”
It was enough to send L over the edge, and Light felt hot wetness cover both of their torsos, coating already sweat-slick bodies. Feeling utterly victorious, Light thrust into L with renewed passion, pace quickening and quickening until he could bear no more and tumbled over the edge himself, coming deep within L as light flared in the darkness behind his eyes.
Sated, he let himself fall onto the body beneath him, and they lay there unmoving as heartbeats slowed and skin cooled, breathing returning to normal. Eventually, inevitably, rational thought came back as well - and suddenly, the possible consequences of what he had said, what he had done appeared vividly in Light’s mind. He froze, stunned at himself, totally unsure of what to do now. He hadn’t expected to be running damage control on this particular situation.
“Light-kun? You’re all stiff. What is it?” L, once again soft-spoken, serious, and totally in control.
Light didn’t answer. It couldn’t have been more obvious. He wanted to run, to get out of there and be alone so he could think. For the first time, he felt the sense of claustrophobia that came with being handcuffed, the sheer lack of choices. He could run - but no matter how far he went, L would be with him. That deep, persistent bit of his mind caught that thought and whispered something about how that problem went deeper than the chain, had become something far more permanent, but he couldn’t think about that now. He simply waited, wondering if this was it, if what he had done counted as a confession.
Slowly, L twisted his wrists, freeing them from the chain, and placed his hands on Light’s cheeks, turning his head and forcing eye contact again. Light could see his reflection in the darkness of L’s eyes, and he imagined he could even see the fear on his own face. L gave him a slight, sad smile and said, “Don’t worry, Light-kun. We’re not to the endgame - not yet.”
Light relaxed a bit, but in place of the fear came anger. “And yet your percentage has gone up,” he said, almost accusatory.
L shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Light felt their roles shifting, moving back to the cold everyday distance, and suddenly that separate emptiness was more terrifying than the closeness. Unsure, hesitant to act, Light didn’t respond, just raised himself off of L’s body and lay down on his side, facing away from L, waiting for him to get up and go back to his own bed. And tomorrow it would be as if nothing had ever happened. They would continue the investigation, both knowing, somehow, that they were just waiting, as L said, for the endgame. But L did not get up. Instead, he rolled over, curled his legs up under his body, and wrapped an arm around Light’s chest, pressing up against his back. Adjusting the sheet over their entwined bodies, he settled back into the slow, even breathing of sleep, And, for once, Light felt at peace. Tomorrow would bring lies and deceit, suspicion and death - but for now, for tonight, all that was swept aside, and it was enough to simply be together, quiet and satisfied in the deep of the night.
Title: Superstar
Fandom: Ouran High
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: PG, for kissing and angst
Wordcount: 826
Summary: Sometimes friends can be crueler than enemies.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.
Author's Note: This was written for a challenge here: http://community.livejournal.com/otw_onlinecon/718.html
The prompt was "Ouran High School Host Club - Tamaki and/or another character, superstar"
I had to edit the version I posted for the challenge because it was too long, so this is the full version. This is my first fic in this fandom (and my first fic for ANY anime), so please excuse any newbie mistakes you may see!
Tamaki grinned to himself, waving as another satisfied customer departed the third music room. Stretching languorously, he closed his eyes and proclaimed, “Ah, I amaze myself! I swear, if there were contests for the best host in Japan, I would win without question…I am, in fact, the ultimate superstar of the hosting world!” He whirled around dramatically and posed for the only other member of the club currently present.
Kyouya looked markedly unimpressed, eyes fixed on his clipboard. “You have no evidence on which to base your theory. Merely gaining the most designations among our club gives you no right to consider yourself the best in Japan. Moreover, you have set no qualifications by which the term “superstar” is to be defined.”
Falling out of his pose, Tamaki tapped his chin and considered this. “Hmm…how would you define a superstar, then?” he asked.
“Well, as our business is more about suspension of disbelief than anything - the girls know at heart, of course, that what they experience is an act - that a true superstar would have to be able to make anyone who walked in that door believe he was acting out of true feeling and forget that it was all made up,” Kyouya replied, glancing at Tamaki over his glasses.
Slowly, a smirk spread over Tamaki’s face, and Kyouya was immediately on guard. “What?” he asked. When no answer came, he shrugged. “Fine. Don’t tell me your plan. But don’t expect the club to finance it, whatever it is.”
Not uttering a word, Tamaki flounced out of the room, leaving Kyouya shaking his head and wondering what exactly his friend was up to this time.
The next day, Haruhi wandered into the third music room, and Kyouya forget about the superstar discussion entirely.
But a week later, Kyouya found himself woken in the middle of the night by someone entering his bedroom. Blinking in the darkness, unable to see anything clearly without his glasses, he would have been afraid if not for the blob of blonde hair floating by the bed. “Tamaki?” he asked, yawning. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
The other boy didn’t answer the question, just stood there, too still and too quiet. Suddenly, Kyouya was paying very close attention. Grabbing his glasses from the table by his bed, he put them on hastily and pulled Tamaki by one arm until they were sitting on the bed side-by-side. “Tell me. What is it?” he asked.
Tamaki looked up at him, utterly serious. “Kyouya…we’ve been friends for a while now, right?” he asked. “And…I could tell you anything, couldn’t I?”
“Of course.” Kyouya watched his friend’s expression carefully, as always, and for a moment, Tamaki’s ever-present act fell away, and he could see the immense loneliness that was beneath all the theatrics. He rested a comforting hand on Tamaki’s shoulder and waited.
Finally, the other boy met his gaze again, eyes shining with unshed tears. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought up a hand of his own and rested it on Kyouya’s cheek. Slowly, impossibly slowly, he moved his face closer to Kyouya’s, eyes falling to his lips. Kyouya felt his breath catch, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. There was no time to catalogue and assess his own feelings on what was happening. All he could do was see the pain in his friend’s eyes, and know that he would do anything to take that pain away.
When their lips met, Kyouya felt a shock go through his body like nothing he’d felt before. It was the most chaste of kisses, barely even touching, but he was instantly aroused by it - perhaps more by the thought that he was kissing Tamaki, Tamaki, than by anything else. Unable to help himself, his arms went around the other boy’s neck, deepening the kiss, and suddenly everything was open, hungry mouths and entwining tongues, and Kyouya was drowning in the sensation of it.
Finally, they parted, both flushed and panting. For a moment, their eyes locked, and emotions swirled between them. Kyouya licked his lips and attempted to put words to what he was feeling, but all that came out was a breathless whisper of “Tamaki….”
And then the world shattered. Tamaki grinned, that wonderful, heartbreaking grin of his, and stood up, raking a hand carelessly through his tousled hair. “You see, Kyouya? I really am a superstar!” he gloated. Then, blowing a playful kiss back to Kyouya, he pranced on his merry way, out into the night.
Kyouya sat uncomprehending for a minute, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Then, methodical as always, he removed his glasses and folded them onto the side table, settled himself under the covers, and, to all appearances, went back to sleep.
And if in the morning his eyes were a bit redder than usual and there were tearstains on the pillowcase, well, no one ever had to know.