hooloovoo_too (hooloovoo_too) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-07-21 21:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: hooloovoo_too, f: death note, july 21, p: light solo |
Persistence of Memory, Death Note (Light/self)
Title: Persistence of Memory
Author: hooloovoo_too
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Word count: 785
Summary: On the night before Light turns himself in, all he wants is a little distraction.
Prompt: Death Note - Light - masturbation - he tried to imagine how he would act after he'd forgotten everything
He never does it this way, but tonight all he wants is distraction, a chance to get out of his head for a few hours, so he changes things up. After he finishes the plan, makes all the little notes to himself in computer files or book margins to give pointers, aim himself in a good strategic direction even if he won’t know what it’s ultimately for, after all the work is done then he locks the door to his room and strips off his t-shirt. He hasn’t eaten in a day and a half, and maybe that’s a sign of something but he doesn’t care, it’s not important anymore. He can eat in prison later.
He peels out of his pants and shorts, flings them in a pile on the floor. His hand twitches down to fold them out of habit, but instead he leaves them and rolls onto his bed completely naked, stares up at the ceiling, and runs his hand down his body to touch himself. He doesn’t consciously think fuck it, just fuck it all, but it’s there, simmering under his skin as his mind runs in circles through pathways of chance -- what if L, what if Misa, what if he, what if. He wants to close it all out, because it feels too much like risk and it feels a lot like losing, so he wraps his hand tense and tight around the base of his cock and focuses as much thought as he can control on his body.
There’s a bottle of lotion by the bed -- he bought it mostly for show during the façade for L’s cameras -- but he doesn’t reach for it. Instead he reaches down with his other hand to tug at his balls. Presses his eyes closed. Concentrates on the swell of Misa’s breast, the curve of her smile when she wants to tease. She’d lay back under him and smile and just give in. He imagines her spread out on blood red sheets, long limbs and perfect, pale skin. He’d fuck her fast, watch her arms and breasts so he didn’t have to see her face contort into strange sex shapes.
Flicker of thumb over the head of his cock and his mind wanders wider, shifting shapes. Instead of Misa, L under him, eyes black and wide, swallowing his cock. His fingers gripping into L’s bicep, grating skin and tendon over bone, hips rocking into his mouth. Wouldn’t choke him, wouldn’t let L work him up that wild, just fuck his mouth, maybe pin his wrists above his head and hold him there like handcuffs. Light groans; it’s L so it shouldn’t be this hot but fuck his dick is hard.
Twist of his wrist -- slap, slap – and he thinks about L tipping his hips up, wanting to get off, but Light wouldn’t let him. God, when he sees L tomorrow to turn himself in, he may be speaking words of surrender, but he’ll be picturing him naked and helpless like this, black hair and black eyes and white skin and need and maybe even a little fear --
-- and he’s coming into his hand, stripping his cock hard, fingers rough against the responsive nerves at the head. His mind blinks out to white noise, stays empty for blissful, blissful seconds. It’s always the best like this, right at the peak of orgasm when it’s completely him in his body, in his mind, and all the other intrusive thoughts can just go fuck themselves for a while.
He keeps touching himself after, not as rough, but enough to draw the feeling out, keep him in that centered, empty space as long as possible. Finally even light touches start to hurt, he’s so sensitive, and he stops to just breathe, eyes still closed. Thoughts filter back in slowly, and he catches a wisp of something lurking in the back of his mind: what if he’s not like this when he loses Kira?
He’d wondered while he was planning whether relinquishing the Note might change his personality, but he never considered that it might change his sexual fantasies. What would a Light who had never been Kira think about during sex? His hand drifts back towards his cock, not stroking, just touching lightly as he tries to imagine. Maybe Misa. He’ll still know she’s his girlfriend, even if he won’t remember why. He flashes on an image of L reaching for a tennis shot, skinny legs and dark eyes and too arrogant for his own good. Maybe he’ll still think about L beneath him and taking it. The Death Note might have changed him, but it hasn’t changed him that much.