[death note] inertia
Dec. 19th, 2006 12:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gigantomachyAnother Death Note fic. I'm not happy with it, but I've been staring at it for hours and I don't want to deal with it anymore. LightxL slash, not worth an NC-17, but definitely a hard R for sexin'.
Summary: It is a battle of a different kind, though no less brutal.
inertia
(recollect me darling raise me to your lips.)
He is not in love.
Nothing even close, really.
L's body arches against his, and he smiles brutally - despite the haze of pleasant stimulation, he is clearly in control.
How strange, Light thinks; L does not react like a lover should. He will not drag any sound beyond a throaty growl from those thin, sugar-coated lips. Reedy fingers may scramble and fist into the sheets and the tender flesh of his back and thighs, but those dark eyes will never close, not even at the peak. It is a battle for dominance, one of the more interesting ways they fight. (And they do. It is savage and animalistic, teeth and nails and sweat and one would think they are trying to rip each others' throats open with the sheer force of their lovemaking, if it could even be called that. They fuck like enemies. They are an even match.)
Even now, even while L's sharp white hips grind against him in obvious challenge, the detective is searching for Kira in his touch.
That suits Light just fine.
L's bottomless stare tracks each movement: analytical, emotionless, simply waiting for the slip. Perhaps he has learned to school his emotions better than Light; perhaps he simply does not care. Either way, Light thinks that perhaps he's losing, and the thought drives him mad.
For a moment, Light hates him more than he has ever hated anything. He wants nothing more than to destroy those black, black eyes, to force a scream of something from the cadaverous man beneath him. Anything at all. With a soft cry of frustration, he bows his head against L's pale chest, rocking forward hard enough to push L six inches closer to the headboard, hard enough to exact a shallow gasp of pain.
It's not enough.
Light jerks the chain that binds them harshly to one side, snarling like a dog as the aluminum links tighten around L's throat. When he raises his head, there is no mistaking the touch of madness gleaming in his dark eyes.
L's mouth shapes the words slowly, lazily. Twenty-seven percent.
Fuck you, Light hisses, but it's too late, and the slick clenching heat of L's body is too much. His body spasms and twitches as he comes, clutching the chain hard enough to leave bruises against his palm. L follows suit soundlessly, the only indication of his own release a shudder that travels the length of his body, and the sticky pool of warmth spreading between them. Perhaps he is excited by the pressure against his throat. Perhaps it is something else entirely.
Light knows he has lost. He holds the chain there a moment longer (waits for the madness to retreat), breath coming in sharp, stacatto gasps before releasing it and collapsing to his elbows. He shifts, burying his face in the damp curve of L's neck. "Why," he murmurs thickly, "are you so fucking cold?"
He is still inside him.
L snorts softly, turning his head away from the warm, soft face so close to his own. In this war, he thinks, it is impossible to leave unscathed.
"What does it matter?" L returns softly, and if Light were watching, he would see dark eyes flutter closed, a bleak look slipping across L's face. His voice does not tremble. "You don't care at all."
-fin
18.12.06
I reallyreally need to stop writing porns and get my KH secret santa fic done. Speaking of porns ... I swore I'd never write them again. Oops, huh?
Also, anyone familiar with the Death Note universe that wouldn't be interested in being an idea-beta for me? I just want to throw some ideas for an epic!AU at you and see if it wouldn't work, at least a little. If interested, email/g-talk me (shiikuATgmail) or AIM (roketto rabu).
Summary: It is a battle of a different kind, though no less brutal.
inertia
(recollect me darling raise me to your lips.)
He is not in love.
Nothing even close, really.
L's body arches against his, and he smiles brutally - despite the haze of pleasant stimulation, he is clearly in control.
How strange, Light thinks; L does not react like a lover should. He will not drag any sound beyond a throaty growl from those thin, sugar-coated lips. Reedy fingers may scramble and fist into the sheets and the tender flesh of his back and thighs, but those dark eyes will never close, not even at the peak. It is a battle for dominance, one of the more interesting ways they fight. (And they do. It is savage and animalistic, teeth and nails and sweat and one would think they are trying to rip each others' throats open with the sheer force of their lovemaking, if it could even be called that. They fuck like enemies. They are an even match.)
Even now, even while L's sharp white hips grind against him in obvious challenge, the detective is searching for Kira in his touch.
That suits Light just fine.
L's bottomless stare tracks each movement: analytical, emotionless, simply waiting for the slip. Perhaps he has learned to school his emotions better than Light; perhaps he simply does not care. Either way, Light thinks that perhaps he's losing, and the thought drives him mad.
For a moment, Light hates him more than he has ever hated anything. He wants nothing more than to destroy those black, black eyes, to force a scream of something from the cadaverous man beneath him. Anything at all. With a soft cry of frustration, he bows his head against L's pale chest, rocking forward hard enough to push L six inches closer to the headboard, hard enough to exact a shallow gasp of pain.
It's not enough.
Light jerks the chain that binds them harshly to one side, snarling like a dog as the aluminum links tighten around L's throat. When he raises his head, there is no mistaking the touch of madness gleaming in his dark eyes.
L's mouth shapes the words slowly, lazily. Twenty-seven percent.
Fuck you, Light hisses, but it's too late, and the slick clenching heat of L's body is too much. His body spasms and twitches as he comes, clutching the chain hard enough to leave bruises against his palm. L follows suit soundlessly, the only indication of his own release a shudder that travels the length of his body, and the sticky pool of warmth spreading between them. Perhaps he is excited by the pressure against his throat. Perhaps it is something else entirely.
Light knows he has lost. He holds the chain there a moment longer (waits for the madness to retreat), breath coming in sharp, stacatto gasps before releasing it and collapsing to his elbows. He shifts, burying his face in the damp curve of L's neck. "Why," he murmurs thickly, "are you so fucking cold?"
He is still inside him.
L snorts softly, turning his head away from the warm, soft face so close to his own. In this war, he thinks, it is impossible to leave unscathed.
"What does it matter?" L returns softly, and if Light were watching, he would see dark eyes flutter closed, a bleak look slipping across L's face. His voice does not tremble. "You don't care at all."
-fin
18.12.06
I reallyreally need to stop writing porns and get my KH secret santa fic done. Speaking of porns ... I swore I'd never write them again. Oops, huh?
Also, anyone familiar with the Death Note universe that wouldn't be interested in being an idea-beta for me? I just want to throw some ideas for an epic!AU at you and see if it wouldn't work, at least a little. If interested, email/g-talk me (shiikuATgmail) or AIM (roketto rabu).
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 07:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 12:01 am (UTC)Character depth is something I used to hunt down in Naruto like the dickens, but I feared and figured I was reading too much into it, considering what I've assessed it to be overall in Kishimoto's intentions. Unless a series is more...subtle, I generally write fic like mad for it if I really like it that's all depthy (yes, depthy, not 'deep') 'til I realize that, hey, I feel like I'm stating the obvious. XD May not be so, but if I have interpretations in which I hold Confidence I start taking them as fact. If that makes aaaany sense.
I always supposed Orochimaru inspired loyalty because of his sheer force of character: his intensity, his conviction, his unshakeable confidence. Yes, he's doing it Evil Bastard Style, but he knows what he wants and he goes for it without displaying a shadow of doubt. That inspires people & fascinates them, right? True, he has the intuition to go after the really fucked up kids, who're more likely to latch onto him, but I think that's the reason why. You've got to admit that Strong Personalities have appeal. People who refine and take pride in and are sure of their own abilities, etc. etc.?
...I've always thought how absolute Orochimaru is would maybe be something to attract Kabuto's respect, which is given to few (if any). Kabuto's more of a shapeshifter than Orochimaru ever has been or will be, figuratively speaking.
I'm not making fun of you, dork. ♥ I get what you mean about putting something in to make it convincing. There's usually room for that unless it's something really viiiiile. And even then...XD
Thanks! And, damned if I know. I never write porn so I haven't noted the difference? Like I said, rarely read it or even anything centered around Le Sex; yours was an exception 'cause I'd exhausted the rest of your DN fic and I was all "Must read more pls. :/" And lo, I was not disappointed.
...Narudemption. *adds to vocabulary* Precisely. Neji is now a Decent Human Being. I agree. I guess he just...never caught my interest. Except his hair. He has very pretty hair. Someone's been hitting the Herbal Essences.