This is the monster, and the riddle, and simply the delicate little coil of warm soft flesh curled up underneath the bedclothes. His face resting against the pillow, soft brown hair across tan skin, still serene eyelashes. He is so very beautiful, L says the words only in his mind, like a confession, while he lies so close to the other man, his breath upon his face. His beautiful lips look moist, indeed quite kissable, tender, nurturable. In fact those lips would be tender in the operative tense, L can imagine such tender kisses from those lips, such warm, sweet caresses. He is certain that the boy is quite capable of gentle affection, he can imagine being within Light's embrace.

Such little fingers, careful, monkey-like could stroke and play, explore across his skin. They would be like children. Light could be so innocent.

L's own dexterous fingers wound lovingly in the other man's hair while he lay still, his round black eyes watching him as he slept. He was close enough to breath in Light's warm scent, his beautiful scent. There was a rustle as Light shifted slightly, awkwardly and murmured slightly, his eyes opened to survey L uncertainly.

He said something low, something irritable and distorted, something about space and pertinence. He watched as L lowered his head, his doleful black eyes full of emotion, Light's eyelashes fluttered once more and he closed his eyes again, to sleep. L let him slip away, watch his breathing still into a nice regular rhythm then crept closer to the boy and gently pressing his face into Light's warm neck and inhaling Light's scent. Light's breathed changed pace once more, a slight snuffle, L pressed his head in closer, his lips now pressed to the warm flesh.

An unmistakable approach, unforgivable perhaps but L had secrets that he needed to whisper; the new and absolute compulsion. Underneath him he felt the slightest of movement, Light shifting himself, a little shudder of his warm body and then a sigh.

They lay still a few moments further before his suspect's voice reached his ears, muffled and soft trough the sheets and L's thick hair where he lay.

'What do you want?' The words were so quiet, so vague and so succinct. L blinked, his eyelashes brushing against the boy's skin. All he could see was the tan skin of Light's neck, a few stray strands of hair, the imperfections only visible at this absolute close distance.

L reached up with his fingers to brush against the skin, delicately.

"You," L whispered, a decleration so explicit in its nature, "you're the only thing I've ever wanted." Then there was nothing, the still silence while L toyed with his obsession, his fingers stroking the skin just underneath Light's collar. He felt Light move his head, the boy's skull pressed against the side of his own head. Then Light's voice closed the moment, a low light extinguished, his words snuffing out the candle;

"Well you can't have me."

L tilted his head and smiled, gently, against the warm skin.

"I love you," he whispered. His breath shook against the boy's skin.

"I love you," Light replied, his quiet words curling round L's a perfect rhythm even as his following whisper cut across their predecessors;

"You still can't have me.

Don't touch me."