For Insatiable Insanity

“Two years, three months and… a week? Is that right?” he mutters to himself. “I believe so. That’s not exactly long in the grand scheme of things. But is it long enough?” As usual, he crouches with his bare feet on the seat, thumbing his lower lip with one hand while the other rests on his knee.

You’re used to the way L talks to himself when he’s working through something, so you don’t comment on his little monologue.

“Did you decide what to order yet?” you ask, slotting a postcard from Tokyo between the pages of your book to hold your place.

“Chocolate cream pie.” L’s eyes dart down to the makeshift bookmark. “Ah, you kept it?”

“Of course. I never throw out any of the postcards you send me from your trips.”

The barest hint of a smile curves his lips as his gaze lifts back to you, wordlessly letting you know that your gesture means a lot to him. Over the years, you and L have grown close; comfortable in each other's company, often seeking each other out simply to be near to one another. He’s the type of friend you can spend hours just sitting beside, watching raindrops slide down the windows, neither of you speaking, the silence between you as comforting as conversation.

L eases your anxieties and you– at least you hope– ease his. Though earning that trust and camaraderie has been a slow process; one which has taken two years… three months and… a week.

“That's how long it's been since we met, isn't it?” You ask, picking up your water to take a sip. “That's what you're thinking about.”

“Yes.” He picks up the sugar shaker and pours about a fifth of its contents into his teacup. “You should know, I'm debating whether to ask you if you would be willing to have sex with me.”

He doesn't even flinch when you splutter into your glass. Surely you heard wrong. “Huh?”

“It's something I'm considering,” he says, stirring the sugar into his tea, pincering the teaspoon with his thumb and forefinger and watching it intensely as he speaks. In all the years you've known him, you've never seen him grasp anything with his whole hand. “I've felt the urge and lately it's become quite persistent. And if I were to explore that avenue I would want it to be with someone I trust. That really only leaves Watari, which is out of the question, a handful of colleagues, which is… a little better but hm… no. Or you. And I'll admit, I have a significant desire for it to be you.”

The world stops spinning for a moment, your racing heart drowns out your thoughts. “Huh?”

“Don't worry. I haven't decided if I'll ask you yet.”

“Uh huh.”

He looks up with genuine concern in his eyes. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No… it's just… I didn't expect it.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he says, sipping the tea with an audible slurp. “A lot happened in Tokyo, as you’re aware. It gave me a lot to consider, and… if I’m honest, brought home the fleeting nature of life.” He takes another sip and then stares directly into your eyes. “I think I will ask you.”

“...okay…”

“Will you have sex with me?”

“Yes.” Your face heats as his dark eyes continue watching you, his expression completely neutral. You have to admit, in the two years, three months, and a week since you met him you've wondered about it, but it wasn't until he asked that you realized just how badly you want him. “Yes I will.”

“Thank you.” He lowers his gaze to the menu in front of him, worrying his lips with the tip of his thumb. “Maybe I want strawberry shortcake instead of chocolate cream. Hm… that’s a conundrum.”

“You could get both?” you suggest with a playful smile, trying to relieve a little of the tension you’re feeling. “You successfully cracked the Kira case, and got home safely. We should celebrate.”

His wide eyes dart to you for a moment, shock registering over his face as he considers it. “Yes, you’re right. Both. One for now and one for after we're done. That sounds like it could be nice.”

“You want to.. um…do it tonight?”

“Yes. I was thinking we could after we're finished here. Is that alright?”

You nod, still a little thrown off kilter by this sudden turn of events. But is it really all that sudden? You’ve felt something more than friendship toward L for a while now, and he’s comfortable around you, he likes to spend time with you; you’re soothing to him in a way, just as he is to you.

And, to be frank, L’s handsome. And completely unaware of it which only makes him hotter.

However, you can’t help but question whether it will change things between you. Will your friendship suffer for the sake of one night?

“I promise I won’t be weird about it,” L says, his gaze fixed on you once more. He always has had a way of figuring out exactly what you’re thinking, almost as if he can read your mind. But no, he’s just that smart and that good at reading people. “We can go right back to being friends afterward if we wish. Communication is key. And of course, if you’re in any way uncomfortable or hesitant–”

“I’m not. I want this.” Your sudden admission makes his eyes widen and your heart skip. Yes, you want it. You want him. Bad.

***

It’s a little after eight when L’s car drops you both off at a hotel.

“I figured a neutral place would work best for us,” he explains as you step into the elevator beside him and the porter presses the button for the top floor suite. “That way either of us can simply leave if…” he trails off, staring straight ahead for a moment before his gaze turns back to you. “I’m sure we’ll have… It’ll be… hm… is fun the right word? It sounds wrong.”

The air between you grows heavy as you stand side-by-side, the porter’s presence holding you back from saying everything you want to. An overwhelming need to reassure L, to make sure he knows that you want him to feel good in every conceivable way, from physical pleasure to comfort and safety, fills you, but the words sit behind a dam at the back of your throat.

When you glance over at L, he’s watching you, his wide eyes studying your facial expressions. And then he side-steps closer to you, the back of his hand nudging yours; such a simple and casual gesture that lets you know he’s there.

“Fun, yeah,” you say.

“Okay, so if you start laughing it means I’m doing well. Understood.”

He delivers the line so flatly it makes you splutter, drawing the attention of the porter. And just like that he sets you at ease; L, your strange, brilliant, enigmatic friend.

Your friend who takes you to the penthouse suite with every intention of fucking you but who first gives you a tour, opening the fully stocked refrigerator and telling you to help yourself.

“I asked them to provide refreshments. Sex burns calories and it seemed polite to make sure your energy reserves were replenished,” he says, pushing aside a plate of chocolate eclairs to place his strawberry shortcake from the diner into the fridge. He then takes you to the bathroom, instructs you on how to turn on the shower and adjust the heat. Then demonstrates the functions of the TVs remote control and the numbers to dial for room service as displayed on the phone by the bedside. And then–

"L… are you nervous?”

“Ah, is it obvious?”

“A little. But it's okay,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours. “I kinda am too.”

“I’m… struggling with the issue of initiation,” he says flatly, glancing down at your joined hands. “If you wouldn’t mind… taking the lead.”

“Okay,” you say, stepping toward him. “How about we start with kissing?”

“Kissing? Yes. We’ll try that.”

Your heart thrums as you lean in and L mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by tentative inches. L’s eyes remain wide open as you close the gap and allow your lips to touch his, an almost painful dart of excitement shooting through you at the sensation.

He inhales sharply, draws back, and then leans in once again.

His lips are stiff at first, but warm, and still taste faintly of chocolate cake. The first few moments consist of you kissing L, and him standing frozen like a deer in the headlights. Fearing he’s not into it you pull back, only for him to close the gap again instantly, this time his lips seeking yours. Only the very tips of his fingers rest on your shoulders, as though he isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. His kiss is soft and shallow; little butterfly kisses which cause a giddy, tingling sensation to bubble in your chest.

His tongue shyly flicks against your lower lip, seeking affirmation and permission. And you grant it, winding your arms around his waist and pulling him closer, rewarded for your boldness with another low, approving groan.

His fingers cautiously slide up to your neck before coming to rest on your jaw. A quiet rumble of pleasure emerges from his throat as his confidence grows and his kiss deepens, and before long, L is kissing you like your lips contain the answers to every one of the world’s mysteries. Those little sounds of pleasure hum against your lips. And when you open your eyes to check whether his are still wide, you find he's closed them, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his expression serene and lost in the sensation of your kiss.

“Hm…” he mutters as you break apart for air. “I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would.”

“Good, me too.”

“I’m aware how clinical this sounds but I have researched different ways to approach this, and the universal consensus from both reputable and anecdotal sources is that we will both enjoy it much more if… you are… aroused.” He looks up and away for a moment, tracing the lower ridge of his lip with his thumb as if trying to recall something. “If you’re…wet.”

“Oh, well, yeah–”

L draws closer, his breath warm as he whispers by your ear, “I want to get you wet.”

The air catches in your lungs, a preemptive pulse of pleasure throbbing between your thighs as his lips begin to explore the sensitive skin of your neck. L has always had a way of putting things plainly.

“I’ve read that neck kisses help,” he mutters, his words muffled against your skin. “As well as stimulating your breasts and your clitoris with my fingers… and my tongue. The thought of that appeals to me. I would like to try it.”

“Hah… of course. You’re already doing… doing a good job…” you breathe out as he continues to kiss your throat, his unruly black hair tickling your jaw and shoulder, his fingers ever-so-gently mapping the curve of your cheeks.

After a moment he pulls back, studying your face before his gaze drops to your lips. “Really? Interesting. I’d thought it would be harder; pun not intended but it deserves to be recognized nevertheless. I do have an erection simply from kissing you. But while our genitals seem to already reached near optimal physical states for sex to occur, I would still like to continue, as planned, with exploration and cunnilingus if you’re happy to proceed–” His words are cut off as you return his gesture, kissing the firm column of his neck, your tongue sliding up the deep groove of muscle traversing its length. “Oh! Oh…”

“That good?”

He nods. “Extremely so-hoh.”

He’s so responsive to your touch, his breath catching in his throat, his fingers trembling against your upper arms. You very quickly become proficient at pulling gasps and breathy moans from him, every inch of him so incredibly sensitive. A choked groan emerges from him as your hands wander down to the hem of his shirt, your fingers caressing the warm, supple skin of his abdomen and the coarse trail of hair leading down to his waistband.

You break away from kissing his neck long enough to pull his shirt up over his head, your hands coming to rest in the subtle curve of his waist. He follows your lead, tugging at your top, breath heavy, hands clumsy and eager. The moment your skin is exposed he tilts his hips toward you, back arching so he can press his body to yours. Hungry for the comfort of your touch, your skin against his, your warmth, your softness. He soaks it in, his lips finding yours once more.

When he slips down his jeans without pulling away from your lips, his cock prods at you through his boxers, just as eager as the rest of him, and unmistakably large.

And he's so hungry for you, so keen to experience it all. The moment you unclasp your bra and toss it aside, his mouth is on your breasts, deep groans telegraphing his pleasure. He kisses them so softly, so carefully you find yourself arching up against his mouth, silently demanding more. Maddeningly gentle. Deliciously sweet.

Together, you shed off the rest of your clothes and stumble toward the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress while he bends down with you, unwilling to take his mouth off you for even a second. Your hands trace the lean shape of his body, his pale skin pebbling at your touch.

His kisses trail down your chest, your belly, your hips, his lips leaving tingles of pleasure in their wake. Slender fingers part your thighs as he crouches between them, his breath warm against your pussy. A quiet hum of contemplation rolls from his throat and he touches his fingertip to your clit. Those wide eyes gaze at you, somehow filled with both knowledge and innocence, and an unspoken question you hear loud and clear…

Is this right?

“Yes…” it’s all you can choke out before he sticks out his tongue and licks.

The sudden shock of pleasure pulls a gasp from you. His tongue is slippery, soft, warm, and hesitant at first until he gets the taste for you and a switch flips. If some part of you had worried that he wouldn't like the taste, you're dead wrong. L devours you, his tongue slipping between your pussy lips, dragging along your slit, circling and lapping at your clit. His groans reverberate through you, his face buried eagerly between your thighs, hands greedily keeping them apart, feathery black hair tickling your skin.

Perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise he’s good with his mouth– you've watched him tie cherry stalks with his tongue after all– but the fervent hunger, his insatiable desire to taste you, that you didn't expect.

And apparently, neither did he. He pulls back briefly, his ashen cheeks for once a little pinker, his eyelids heavy and unable to tear their gaze from your pussy.

“This… might actually be better than cake.”

You laugh, despite your frustration at the loss of his touch. “Don't stop…”

“Oh! Right…” he leans in, placing a slow, open mouthed kiss on your clit, his tongue so soft and gentle you find yourself arching your back, rocking your hips against his mouth, desperate for more pressure.

Dark eyes flick up to you, and you can tell he's pleased, he enjoys your reactions. Just as he enjoys it when you run your hands through his hair, stopping at the back of his head, gently holding him against you. He reads your body language perfectly, picking up the pace, increasing the pressure, licking you with renewed fervor, driving you closer… closer…

“Mmhhh… hmmm…” he murmurs, fingers digging slightly deeper into the plush of your thighs when they start to tremble. Every breath huffs from his nose as he refuses to let up, his lips forming a tight seal around your clit as he licks and licks. The wet, sucking sound of his mouth against your tender flesh makes it all the better; so lewd, so utterly primal.

And when you cum, his eyes shoot back up to you, his expression a mix of shock and wonder at the sensation of your pussy pulsing beneath his lips. He doesn’t let up until you tell him to, and even then he’s slow to do so, sighing softly as he tenderly and affectionately kisses your throbbing clit.

When he rocks back on his heels, still crouched, he’s hazy-eyed, flushed, breathless. A creamy bead of pre-cum trickles from the tip of his cock as he licks his lips. “I enjoyed that far more than I expected I would. If you asked me to do it again, I doubt I’d hesitate.”

You nod, heat tingling beneath the surface of your skin. “You’re good at it.”

“Ah! Good.” He glances down at his weeping cock. “Are you still happy to continue?”

“God, yes.”

“Oh, we’re at the petnames stage already? I’m flattered.” He pauses, staring directly into your eyes. “That was an attempt at a joke, I believe I’m deflecting a little, trying to mask my nerves with humor.”

Oh L… you can’t help but feel so hopelessly endeared to him. This sweet, strange, wonderful man who just ate your pussy like it was his first meal in years, and yet still feels nervous when really you’re already completely satisfied.

“How about if I take the lead? You can just lie back and… feel…” you offer.

He contemplates it for a moment, tapping his thumb against his cupid’s bow. “Yes. I think I would like that. And you can have extra cake later for doing all the hard work. That was another attempt at humor.”

“Cake and sex? Win win.” You pat the bed beside you. “Come on, we’ll take it nice and easy. I’ll stop when you say when.”

“I’m very glad I asked you to share this with me,” he says as he climbs onto the bed and lies back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other still worrying his lips. “I feel… safe. Comfortable. There’s a sense of belonging here with you which makes this all far more pleasant and… a little less terrifying.”

“There’s no need to be scared,” you say softly, kissing the fingers resting on his lips as you straddle him.

“Rest assured I do feel safe with you. But… I do feel a little exposed laid out flat like this. It isn’t a natural position for me to be in. Would you mind if I…” He experimentally bends his legs, raising his knees so his thighs are flush with your ass. “Is this okay?”

It means you have to keep your weight forward, your hands braced on the pillow either side of his head and your chest flush with his. But it also means your faces are close; close enough to kiss, close enough that you can take his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together on the pillow. “It’s more than okay.”

“This. This is nice,” he whispers,” the tip of his nose grazing against yours. “I feel good. Safe. Thank you.”

You treat him so tenderly he shivers as you kiss his lips, his jaw, then down his neck to his chest. His breath catches as your lips graze his nipple, and his hips jut upward against you. The moment the head of his cock nudges your pussy his eyes widen and his lips part.

“Certainly… very wet. And warm.” His other hand darts down to hold your hip, subtly urging you downward.

The tip of his cock feels almost impossibly fat against your entrance. You kiss your way back up his throat to look him in the eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes!” He quivers, nodding to reaffirm his consent, eyes wide, lips open around his heavy breaths. “Continue. I want to… feel… oh…” He freezes the moment you lower yourself onto him and feels your wet heat consume him. “Oh… you are… extremely warm. Soft. Hoh… wet…”

You kiss him softly, smiling that his usual eloquence has been reduced to a quiet stream of grunts and adjectives. His grip on your hand tightens the moment you rock your hips.

“Ah! It’s… it’s good…” he murmurs, his lips once again seeking yours, though even their deftness is lacking. His kiss is soft and uncoordinated, his moans muffled against your lips, his breaths catching in his throat before he can properly exhale.

And he feels good for you too. Not just the intoxicating stretch, or the way the pair of you slowly grind your hips together, faces so close you’re sharing the same air. For those few minutes there was never any Kira case, never any fear he would become nothing more than a name on a neverending list of victims. He isn’t even just a beloved friend you’re doing this with once so he can know what it feels like. He’s simply L… your L… and you’re together, right where you belong.

His eyes close and he inhales sharply, his cock throbbing inside you as he lifts his head and buries it in the crook of your neck, curling up as much as he can with your weight on top of him.

“Gya… shhh… ah! Ah!” He groans and hisses against your shoulder, his orgasm causing him to tremble. “D-don’t…” he gasps. “Don’t stop. Not yet. Stay with me. Please.”

“Okay,” you assure him, kissing him softly once more. “I’ll stay.”

And you do. You stay with him in bed for hours, kissing, experimenting, hiding from the world together. You stay with him and eat cake after that. And you stay with him in the hotel bed watching raindrops slide down the windowpane while he curls up in your arms and reiterates the simple truth…