Title: Touch Of A God
Fandom: Death Note
Warnings: Ryuk involved in a physical pairing?
Written for: kozibot —
Author's Note: This, too, was written after seeing only 8 episodes of Death Note. It's very daunting writing fic when you're blind to a lot of the canon. Also? Light is a pain to write.
Summary: The human couldn't truly understand what it was to be a god. Ryuk could give him a small taste....
“The Lord is a jealous God, filled with vengeance and wrath. He takes revenge on all who oppose him and furiously destroys his enemies! The Lord is slow to anger, but his power is great, and he never shall he allow the guilty to go unpunished. He displays his power in the whirlwind and the storm. The billowing clouds are the dust beneath his feet. In his presence the mountains quake, and the hills melt away; the earth trembles, and its people are destroyed. Who can stand before his fierce anger? Who can survive his burning fury? His rage blazes forth like fire, and the mountains crumble to dust in his presence. He pursues his foes into the darkness of night.” - Nahum 1:2-8
Light wrote. Ryuk watched. The pen moved across the paper like lightening, the sound of writing filling the bedroom. Ryuk’s eyes followed the pen, tracing the lines of death. The pen was mightier than the sword in Light’s hand, mightier than any manmade weapon. But it was not the pen that held the power, the pen was the tool. Light was judge, jury and executioner, the pen nothing but his instrument.
Ryuk crouched on the bed, mouth open. Light paid no attention. He was bent over the Death Note, his pen never pausing. And still, despite the intensity of his work, there was a relaxed air about him. His lips were smiling, his eyes were bright. He was comfortable, at ease. He was enjoying himself. He was beautiful and frightening in the low light, more devil than god.
Ryuk moved from the bed. Like a great spider he slipped behind Light, limbs bent and eyes gleaming like twin moons in the desk light. God and devil, eyes on the Death Note in a suburban bedroom. An unlikely setting for such a drama, almost comical in its absurdity.
Light’s eyes didn’t leave the Death Note. Ryuk just laughed. So focused, so intent. So deluded…
“You really think you’re a god.” Ryuk laughed again, cackling like a mad thing. Light’s hand tightened about his pen, and suddenly the writing stopped. Ryuk stopped laughing. He watched Light, watching the emotions flit across the young man’s face. Anger, shock, pride… foolish humans, all of them so proud.
“I am a god,” Light said, and the pen resumed. Fact, stated as surely as the weather. Light was a god. What a miserable little god he was, petty and vengeful and swollen with his own power.
“You feel like a god.” Ryuk leaned forward, over Light’s shoulder. He ignored the names and instructions in the Death Note - he didn’t care about those. Light’s skin was pale, washed out in the light from the desk. The television was a soft noise in the background.
Light didn’t answer. The pen continued its march, back and forth across the pages. Death without blood stained hands, control without contact, power without price. Or so Light saw it.
“Would you like to touch godhood? Hmm?”
Light tensed. Again, the pen stilled. Ink dripped from the tip, clinging to the metal. In the dim light, it shone like blood.
“No deal.” Ryuk’s hands rested on Light’s shoulders. So warm. So alive. So very human. Veins and blood and muscle were all moving beneath Ryuk’s hands. Humanity was intoxicating.
“How does it feel? Eh?” Clawed fingers skittered down over Light’s shoulders, long and thin. Skeleton hands, bony fingers, crawling along the fabric of Light’s sweater. Beneath the sweater, skin. Human skin, soft and warm…
“What are you doing?”
So tense! Ryuk laughed. Was he frightened? His heart was beating hard and fast. Ryuk felt it, a caged bird beneath his roving hands. Light pulsed with life. So he wished to be a god? He didn’t have the faintest idea. Claws slid beneath fabric, touching that warm, human skin.
“Ah, you don’t want a taste of godhood?” Pointed teeth slid against smooth, pale cheek-skin. Light shuddered. So very, very warm. And so fragile. Skin so easy to tear, bones so easy to break. Ryuk’s teeth closed over the soft flesh of Light’s neck. The pen dropped to the desktop, clattering against the wood. Light was frozen, unmoving. Shock? Fear? Or perhaps something else…
Humans were so many things. But among them all, humans were proud. Ryuk came again and again to the pride of humanity. They saw the frailty in their species, but never in themselves. Light was proud. Gods were not proud. But Light tasted like apples, that same sinful sweetness against Ryuk’s tongue. And what did Light taste, on his skin? Did he feel true power? Did he understand true godhood?
The chair was shoved back, and Ryuk retreated, the taste of Light still on his bloodless lips. Light turned, eyes narrowed. Was he angry? Would his foolish human pride allow him that?
“What’s the matter?” Ryuk hovered above the bed, legs crooked and hands dangling. Light snorted, a condescending sound.
“I’m busy.” Light returned to the Death Note, retrieving the pen. It moved across the paper once more, the task of judgment resumed once more. Nothing more was said - pride wouldn’t allow it. His skin was flushed. His shoulders still heaved with heavy breathing. What would Light look like, Ryuk wondered, if he was shattered? All his pride torn apart, broken like glass. His rage crumbled, scattered to the wind. What would Light be, broken? Would he be beautiful? Or simply miserable?
Ah well. Ryuk settled back onto the bed, lips open in a feral grin as he watched Light work. He figured he’d see it sooner or later, if he hung around long enough.
Even gods fell to their own pride.
If You Sing Loud and Clear
someone passing by will surely hear
- Advent Fic #11!