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The cameras’ sudden appearance hadn’t surprised Light much. To be honest, he had expected them quite a bit sooner than when they’d appeared. And now that he knew of them—and where they all were, thanks to Ryuk’s withdrawal-induced searching—he figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to avoid them. The fact that L thought a wiretap and a few dozen cameras would be enough to trip him up was a bit laughable, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to go along with the charade for now.
That being said, he had no intention of making the so-called genius detective’s job any easier. If L thought he was ahead of Light—ahead of Kira —then he had another thing coming.
Light had known that killing Raye Penber basically ensured that the surveillance the FBI originally placed on him would return full-force. And because he wasn’t an imbecile, he had made sure to come up with several countermeasures he knew were sufficient enough to reassure the police that he really was just a normal high schooler.
But still, he knew that needed to be strategic. His father would certainly be his first line of defense if he were to accidentally slip up and reveal something he shouldn’t, but there were other men on the task force that didn’t know him as well. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Aizawa and Matsuda of his innocence, but L was different. He was the world’s greatest detective—a genius by all accounts. Light wasn’t sure he had anything up his sleeve in the way of truly deceiving him.
He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. With his hands folded behind his head, he was sure he was the picture of normalcy. He sighed and let his eyes slip closed for a moment.
Maybe deceiving L wasn’t the answer. Light was smart; his perfect test scores and grades attested to this fact. But his intelligence meant nothing if L was smarter. He’d been around longer and had solved far more cases than the measly handful Light had been allowed to work on. So, as much as it annoyed him to admit it, L had the upper hand. Any attempt to deceive him would surely fail.
Light opened his eyes as a sudden thought occurred to him. If he couldn’t deceive L, maybe he could distract him. He rocked forward in his chair and folded his hands underneath his chin.
Out of everything in his repertoire, he was sure there was something he could do to throw L off of his game. His mind was spinning with possibilities. Sure, it was important that he kept his alibi airtight, but that much was easy. Writing all those names weeks in advance allowed him to play the part of the perfect teenage son even while criminals were still being killed by Kira. At this point, Light was sure that in the time they spent watching him, L and the rest of the Kira task force would be unable to find any concrete evidence that he was Kira.
The problem wasn’t whether or not they would find any evidence, though, he hummed thoughtfully. It was that if Light didn’t do something about it, L was smart enough that he would figure him out regardless. So distracting L was the best strategy. He covered his mouth with his hand and grinned wickedly as a thought popped into his mind.
His father would never admit to seeing the surveillance footage of him. Aizawa and Matsuda were his father’s friends, not his, so he had no reason to suspect they would confront him over whatever saw in the footage. And L would never be stupid enough to show his face in front of someone he suspected to be Kira.
After a moment, Light stood up from his desk and walked over to the door. With a simple flick of his wrist, he flipped the lock and headed towards his bookcase. Yes, out of everything in his repertoire, Light was sure that this was the best way to distract the world’s greatest detective.
If L wanted a show, Light might as well give him one.
“Are you absolutely sure we have to go to such lengths to prove my son's innocence? I mean, think about it Ryuzaki, how could my son ever do something like this? He’s a good kid! Top of his class!”
L bit at his thumbnail and nodded along to Soichiro’s rambling, not really listening. It was a natural response–the anxiety. After all, what sane parent could even fathom the possibility of their child being a mass murderer? Truly, L would be more concerned if Soichiro managed to perfectly maintain his carefully curated stoicism. But as his nervous badgering continued, he couldn’t help but yearn for the Soichiro he had gotten used to. The chattering was beginning to grate on him. L was only doing his job, after all. He had to make sure his bases were covered.
And in the unlikely event that Light Yagami proved to be Kira, he had to be sure he saw it coming. He couldn’t afford to be blindsided.
“As I said before, Detective Yagami,” he finally responded, “there is only a five percent chance that Light is actually Kira. Wouldn’t you rather that chance be narrowed down to zero?”
Detective Yagami sighed at his response and made no further comment. L was glad for the silence. Other than the sound of Light’s movements–muffed almost entirely through the speakers–the room was silent. It was much easier to think this way, he mused.
“Does your son usually study so much?” L found himself asking.
He already knew the answer, but he figured asking questions of Light’s father couldn’t hurt. Perhaps he’d inadvertently reveal something to sway L’s judgment one way or the other.
“He’s always been smart and usually studies a good bit, but with the National Entrance Exams coming up, he’s been at it more than usual. I’ve told him to take a break every now and again, but I guess he’s inherited his father’s stubbornness.”
That certainly did seem to be the case . From the moment Light had gotten home from school, he had seemingly done nothing but study. The cameras closest to him allowed L to see that Light was staring only at his notes; his eyes only moved enough that it was unlikely he was doing anything other than reading over his notes. So, unless Light possessed uncanny acting skills, he truly was studying.
He bit at his thumbnail again and considered asking Watari to bring in a fresh pot of tea–when Light made his first unsuspected move of the evening; he stood up from his desk and flipped the lock on his bedroom door.
“Light, what the hell are you doing?” Soichiro asked, voice was tight and panicked. L could feel the anxiety rolling off of the detective, so he waved a hand at his colleague’s franticness and hoped that his nonchalance would be enough to ease his worries.
“It’s perfectly normal for 17-year-olds to want some privacy now and then, Detective. We should withhold any judgment until we see why he’s locked the door,” L said. Soichiro’s shoulders sagged a bit as he nodded, seemingly in some state of agreeance with L’s advice.
Even though his posture had relaxed, it was obvious to L that the detective’s anxiety had not lessened in the slightest. He stared at the detective a moment longer, briefly wondering if he should reconsider his earlier train of thought about Light Yagami’s acting skills. Perhaps his stubbornness was not the only thing he inherited from his father.
His eyes were trained on Light’s slim form as he crossed the length of his bedroom. In one, swift movement, Light dropped to his knees in front of his bookshelf. He reached towards one of the well-worn encyclopedias and flipped open the cover.
L felt his eyes widen slightly as the volume fell open to reveal that most of the pages had been cut away, leaving the book with a deep, hollowed out center. He held his breath–carefully tracking Light’s every moment–as Light pulled something from the center of the book.
“What could he possibly need to be this secretive about?”
Not yet ready to admit his previous statement about Light’s innocence may have been false, L did his best to wave off Aizawa’s concern by speaking of his teenage-self's pointless secrecy. His mind was elsewhere, though, too busy with being laser-focused on watching Light crawled up the length of his bed, fist clenched around a rolled-up magazine.
“Is that…”
Matsuda’s quiet voice broke the silence of the room just as Light’s hand moved from the magazine to his belt buckle.
In one quick motion, L scooted forward until he was barely perched on the edge of his chair. He clicked furiously through the cameras as Light pushed his pants down to reveal his long, slender legs. Just as Light kicked off his pants and let them fall haphazardly to the floor, L finally managed to find a camera angle that showed him the magazine Light had worked so hard to conceal. His eyes tracked over an oiled up torso, jeans slung low on the hips of the man on the page. There was a suggestive grin on the man’s face, clearly meant to beckon the reader into opening it up to see what was inside. And look inside he did.
As he flipped open the magazine, L finally understood what he was seeing. Light Yagami was looking at gay porn.
It hadn’t taken much to convince the rest of the Task-Force to vacate the surveillance room. Soichiro had fled the moment Light’s hand traveled to his belt and Aizawa–dragging a blushing Matsuda by the shirt collar–followed closely after. At L’s insistence, Watari had followed the detectives out of the room.
He was alone, now, just as Light was. The only difference between the two of them was that Light was palming himself through his boxers, hips trembling as he flipped through the pages of the magazine in front of him and L was sitting in the too-dark surveillance room and watching.
He was close enough to the monitor now that the tip of his nose brushed against the screen every time he moved to change the camera angle. Belatedly, he realized that he needed far more monitors than the two he was working with. For surveillance, he told himself, though the tightness in his pants and the warmth did little to convince him of his claims. He swallowed thickly, tongue dry and aching for the tea he never asked Watari for.
It was all for the investigation, he told himself. His heart was pounding in his ears—pulse thunderous enough that he swore he could feel his body moving with the force of it. It was the investigation–the prospect of seeing his main suspect in a new light, the thrill of the new information he could gather from this—that was making him so excited. He was not, he told himself, excited by the way that Light was bucking up into his palm and gasping at the pleasure he must have been feeling.
L’s breath hitched as Light’s hand suddenly moved from his crotch. Was he finished already? He couldn’t possibly be. L was certain that he would have seen it if Light had climaxed. With the position Light had chosen to sprawl out in, he had all but put himself on display for the world–or really just L, in this case–to see.
That thought gave him pause. He watched as Light’s hand returned to his boxers, this time choosing to curl his slender fingers under the waistband and tug the shorts down, slowly enough that L knew the friction must feel agonizing. And that was odd, L mused. Unless Light was really into foreplay, it really did seem as though Light was taking his time and...
L froze, fingers still clutched tight around the mouse underneath his hand. He watched as Light shimmied the boxers down his thighs, as he ran his fingers down the pale skin of his torso, as he brushed against his nipples. He was surprised to feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Yes, it did seem as though Light Yagami was putting on a show. But for who?
With another click of his mouse, the camera angle changed, giving L an unhindered view of Light Yagami’s cock, long and slender and flushed from root to tip. His palm was slick with his own pre-come and the sounds coming through the computer speakers were some of the lewdest things that L had ever heard.
And he was sure that Light was well aware of that. As Light worked his cock to full hardness, almost mewling as he swiped a thumb over the head on each stroke, L pondered his newest theory. L pondered his newest theory.
It was clear to him now–as Light’s breathy moans echoed throughout the otherwise silent room–that somehow, Light had become aware of the cameras in his bedroom. It was certainly unexpected, this newfound knowledge, and it did nothing to ease the pressure building in his groin. He couldn’t help but rock forward in his chair–a half-hearted attempt to bring him some sort of relief. He couldn’t help the strangled moan that left his mouth at the tiny rolls of his hips.
L’s teeth dug into his lip with enough force to tear through the skin. He closed his eyes as the taste of copper blossomed on his tongue, nearly overwhelmed by the sensory input coming at him from every direction.
He was going to go crazy. Never before had he dealt with a suspect like Light Yagami. Never had he known someone to go to such…extremes to throw L off of their trail.
But he would be lying through his teeth if he said it wasn’t working. He was so hard he was aching and he was certain he would lose himself if he did nothing about it. After another moment of listening to the undeniable sounds of Light pleasuring himself, L opened his eyes.
He was certain that, at the very least, Light knew that someone was watching him at this very moment. And based on the way he’d acted so far, L didn’t feel that it was too much of a reach to say that Light knew he was watching–that he was putting on this show entirely for L’s benefit. Almost as if he was reading L’s thoughts, Light looked up to the ceiling and stared directly into the camera L was watching him from.
With a groan, L shoved his hand down his pants.
He grabbed a hold of his cock and nearly came on the spot. He was already so close to coming just from the noises Light was making, let alone the show he was putting on. He’d turned his head into his pillow and was panting as he palmed over the head of his cock on each stroke. L could see that he was close–nearly ready to tip over the edge–and he was struck with the sudden urgent need to come at the same time as LIght.
He pressed his free palm to the screen and bit back a moan as Light tensed, arching his back so hard it looked almost painful, as he came. And then L was following, biting back a groan as waves of pleasure rushed over him. He swore his pleasure was doubled just by thinking of what Light must also be experiencing. The thought made his dick twitch and spurt out one last bit of cum into the mess he’d already made of his pants.
Panting a bit from the leftover pleasure, L watched as Light came down from his orgasm, thighs trembling and dick still twitching, oversensitive and spent. It took a few minutes for him to collect himself enough to slip into a new pair of boxers and pants and settle back down at his desk. L watched, weirdly impressed, as Light went back to his homework as if nothing had happened at all.
Alright, Light Yagami, he thought, two can play that game. After cleaning himself up, L unlocked the door and called for the rest of his task force. It was easy enough to explain away Light’s actions–after all, who would doubt the world’s greatest detective?
In fact, he explained it well enough that Soichiro seemed to relax, truly relax, for the first time in weeks. It was enough of a weight off of his shoulders that when the detective left later that evening, L found himself with dinner plans for the following evening. Dinner at the Yagami’s.