Hello! I posted this fic quite a while ago, when Deathnote was my life. I'm sorry to say that it isn't anymore, but I still hold fond memories of it. :D
Anyway, I recently read this over and realized this was COMPLETE SHIT. I'd like to say that I've done a lot of growing up in my writing, and have improved to some degree, so I took the liberty to totally revise this.
Edited and revised 12/28/10. I've only edited the first half of this, right before the heated stuff starts. Trust me, I'm much more detailed when writing steamy scenes, so I will revise the last half of this sometime later.
The door burst open, a gust of cold wind quickly permeating the small room.
I warily looked up from the house of cards sitting pristinely in front of me, card after card stacked to near perfection until it nearly swayed a good 16 inches off the ground. A spade card flashed between my fingers and I flicked it off to the side—the spade will go at the very top, I wouldn't settle for less. Mello stood at the door, leaning on the door frame haphazardly as if he were about to fall, and there was something deep within me that wordlessly urged for him to fall. What would it look like to see the great and mighty Mello on the floor, surrounded in a vermilion puddle of his own shame? His corn colored hair was messy and askew, strands sticking to his face and fusing with his sweat.
He was breathing profoundly, I realized, his head hung low and cerulean eyes averted to the floor. I stared at him for a few moments and scanned the rest of him, my eyes never leaving his body. Something ghastly must have happened to make him look like that. Droplets of blood spattered onto the carpet, seeping into the material until it bled and stained, and even more droplets continued to fall.
"Mello," I spoke up, placing another card on the ground. I surveyed him, studying the way he trembled as if her were about to collapse. Surprisingly, he seemed to pull through and left the doorframe. His steps were wobbly and unstable, blood leaving a thin, red trail in his wake. His hair swished in front of his face, hiding him like a mask, and through it all he never stopped.
Finally, he reached me and promptly threw himself on the floor. His legs were splayed against the ground, his shoulders hunched and muscles tense. I watched as his nimble fingers fiddled against the carpet, the pads of his fingers gently brushing across the material as if he were petting a cat. His index finger smeared against a few droplets of blood that had fallen onto the ground, and he began to slowly mix it into the carpet, blood seeping into the material and staining it a briny, brackish color.
He looked up and anchored his gaze on me, cobalt eyes void and murky. I almost wanted to cringe away in revulsion- I didn't like him looking at me like that, and I never wanted him to look at me like that ever again, however I refrained from voicing these musings aloud. A deep laceration was embedded into his lower lip, blood staining his teeth pink. His face was thoroughly bruised, and one of his eyes was mottled purple and blue.
"What happened?" I asked evenly, watching as a steady trickle of blood flowed down his chin to pool on the floor. He looked at me, his bruised eye twitching. Without thinking, I reached out my hand and wiped the cuff of my pajama shirt over his chin, effectively wiping the blood away. Daubs of blood came away on my sleeve, and I looked down at it with disinterest. I'd have to sneak down into the washrooms and rinse the blood out before Roger saw it.
Mello backed away quickly and gave me a feral glare.
"Don't fucking touch me," he hissed, blood spurting on the floor. I drew my hand away, letting it fall limp at my side. So much for trying to help him, but I should have known that Mello would only get hostile at my offering of help. I brought my knee up and hugged it to my chest, twirling my index finger about my hair. There was a first aid kit in the closet, it would be useful in a situation like this, and all I had to do was retrieve it. Nodding my head, I slowly stood up and traipsed over to the closet.
Placing my hand on the doorknob, I twisted it open and pulled the door forward. Bending down, I rummaged through a pile of old shoes and bags of clothes that Roger had gotten me a couple of months ago, but never wore. After shifting through more junk, I found the familiar red-cross insignia on the medical kit. I grabbed at the kit's handle and plucked it from its entrapment, pulling the box to my chest and closing the door shut.
Shuffling back towards Mello, I sat down in front of him and set the box between us. I brought my knee up to my chin, my fingers habitually tapping along my kneecap. Mello just sat there, eyes frozen on the white medical kit. His cross necklace hung away from him, twirling round and about. If he leaned any lower, it would surely smear against the blood.
"You should clean yourself up," I whispered. His blue eyes darted back up to me, squinting in irritation and resentment.
"I don't need your fucking help," he said through gritted teeth, a fresh line of blood trickling down his chin.
"Then why are you here?"
He sneered at that, hanging his head low and away from view. Either he was really pissed or extremely bashful. I sighed- I doubt it was the second choice. A few more sluggish moments passed by, neither of us saying or doing anything. I was starting to wonder if we'd ever say anything, and with an exasperated sigh, I finally made up my mind. If he wasn't going to fix himself up, then I would. I didn't want any more blood seeping into my carpet—that'd be disgusting, and a lasting testament to his existence within my room.
I brought out my hand and fumbled with the clasp of the medical kit. Flicking the tab up, I pried open the lid and flipped the top over. In total, there were three rolls of gauze, a pack of at least 30 or so band-aids, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, ten cotton-balls and a pair of miniature scissors. It was just the essentials, but it would have to do for now.
I gingerly plucked out a cotton-ball, rolling the downy material against my fingers while uncapping the bottle of alcohol. A dizzying, bitter smell permeated the room and I had to turn away to get used to the strong odor. Grimacing, I placed the cotton-ball on the opening of the bottle and tipped the alcohol over so that it was upside down. Once the cotton-ball was thoroughly drenched with the liquid, I discarded the container.
"Here," I mumbled. I leaned over and jabbed the cotton-ball to the open cut on his lip, the substance searing across his flesh. In an instant, my cheek was stinging, the resounding slap echoing across the room. I dropped the cotton-ball and cupped my cheek, running the pads of my fingers tepidly along the inflamed skin. I could feel my face throbbing against my palm, and I simply stared across at him with wide eyes.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he spat, wiping off the residue of the alcohol from his lip. He spat on the floor—his saliva was tinged pink. He spat on the floor once again, narrowly missing my knee. He hissed and delicately tapped at the cut with his index finger.
"Hurts," he muttered, flicking his tongue over the dried blood that had accumulated at the corner of his mouth.
"Of course it hurts, it's alcohol," I retorted, my fingers running circle patterns over my cheek. "It's necessary."
Mello anchored his gaze on me and sneered, running his tongue over his lips. He shifted in his seat and leaned back on the palm of his hands, corn colored bangs shadowing his eyes. "I said it before and I'll say it again: I don't need your fucking help!"
I quirked an eyebrow at him—he wasn't making any sense. I averted my gaze and instead stared down at the carpet, my fingers customarily inching towards my hair. That was Mello for you: he was smart and impulsive and never thought of the consequences, and his nasty temper always interfered with his problem solving. Instead of reasoning it out, Mello used brute force to get things working for his benefit, and for eventually to his liking.
"Why did you come here then?" I asked slowly. There was no reason for him to be here bleeding on my carpet. What was the point? He'd just make a mess of things, and furthermore waste his energy.
"There's no where else to go."
I quirked my head, peering through the curly white strands of my hair. What did he mean by that? He had plenty of places to go, like the infirmary for instance, and if not that, a bathroom.
"Roger's always locked up in his office," he continued, his pale fingers brushing parts of his bangs aside. "And I can't let the others see me like this, then who'd they be afraid of? There's a pack order, I can't show any faults in authority."
"You make them sound like a bunch of animals, Mello," I drawled on, lazily curling my finger through a curly lock. I stared at him quietly, contemplating the given information. Mello's constant quest for power, and his ever-growing ego, seemed to be escalating.
"You can go to your own room then and mend your authority there," I said calmly, looking away. "There's no reason to stay here. Your room is just as good as mine, and frankly, I don't know why you even bothered coming here."
The room went deathly silent. After a lengthy pause, Mello suddenly leaned forward and furrowed his brow. "Why are you always like that?"
The question caught me off guard.
"You're always so cold, so distant! I fucking hate it- I hate you! You piss me off so much, you make me so fucking mad that sometimes…sometimes I think about just offing you!"
I could practically feel the anger rolling off him. His voice was guttural and low, his fingers and eyes twitching repeatedly. He shifted a bit and leaned in a little more, narrowing his eyes until they were pointed and feral.
"I fucking hate you Near," he said through gritted teeth, droplets of blood splattering on my pajama leg. "I've always hated you. You're always trying to be number one, always so cold, always so fucking reserved." He was really close now, so close that I could feel his hot breath fan against my face. Then, he lunged.
He was on top of me, his hands clasped around my neck. His fingers were ice cold and they somehow seemed to burn as he gouged his fingernails into my skin. I stared up at him with wide eyes. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?
"I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you," he chanted, his golden hair curtaining his eyes. I was starting to feel my breath shorten, and my head felt light and dizzy, as if I was in a haze. I scratched at his hands, desperately trying to pry them off, but to no avail. He was cutting off my air supply, and it was starting to get harder and harder to breath. His fingers tightened around my throat and I choked, coughing and hacking viciously. In a last attempt to get him off me, I gripped tightly at his hair and yanked with all the force I could muster, practically yanking the strands from his scalp.
"M-Mello…" I choked, kicking at him. I flailed and punched, desperately trying to scratch at his face, but he never let me get that far. He was surprisingly strong, something I hadn't accounted for. It felt as if a heavy boulder were weighing down on my chest. Tears welled at the corners of my eyes, my face was flushed and red and glistening with wet residue. Was I going to die like this?
All the while, Mello glared down at me, cerulean eyes hard and fixed.
"—shut up," he snapped. "Shut the fuck up." His grip suddenly loosened, altogether releasing my throat. I heaved and gasped for air, trying to take in as much oxygen as my lungs would allow. The pounding in my head was starting to dissipate, and my chest no longer felt heavy. I was breathing deeply underneath him, my chest rising and heaving. My throat felt raw and sore, and when I tried to swallow, it stung.
My body began to quiver and shake, vibrations shooting up from my stomach. I pressed my hand to the lower part of my belly, and when I felt nothing out of the ordinary, I withdrew and stared confusedly up at Mello. His shoulders were hunched and trembling, the perfect strands of his hair shaking along with him. His head was also hung low, hiding his face from view.
I merely stared at him and swallowed instinctively. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he raised his head and stared down at me, his face flushed and eyes squinted. He looked tentative, unsure, as if he was at a loss of what to do. I was confused at such an expression on his face—I have never seen Mello so unsure of himself.
"I can't..." he said quietly and leaned down, resting his head on my chest. I shivered at the strange warmth, perplexed at his actions. Mello and I, we never really got along. He constantly competed against me over the years, always trying to out-match me. Of course, most of the time he failed and I was the victor. I couldn't understand it really, why he would get so emotional over the tiniest little victory. He always berated me for it. Over the years, those accusations turned more verbally violent. I wasn't intentionally trying to out-win him, I was just more reserved with my emotions than he was, which enabled me to think twice about my actions. He was too brash, always acting on impulse, which was why things didn't turn out well for him in the end.
"Near," Mello said quietly, voice vibrations tickling my chest. "Have you ever stopped to consider that we're just lonely little orphans? No one cares for us, no one wants to protects us, no one would die for us." He inclined his head, looking at me strangely.
"We're nobodies," he continued. "We have to constantly share what little happiness we have with the others—nothing belongs to us."
"At least we have a home," I replied, my voice hoarse and scratchy. "We might not have parents that care for us or someone to claim as our own, yet we can still make it through life just fine. You don't need any parents anyways, you're too wild to be contained."
I felt his fingers tap against my chest, running little patterns over my shirt. Warning bells ringed in my head; such an invasion to my privacy was unheard of. The boundary for personal space had already been crossed, why was he making it even worse?
"Near..." he breathed, clutching my shirt. I stiffened, shifting from underneath him. I pushed Mello off, scooting a good distance away from him. Something was wrong with him; it had to be the injuries surely, because Mello never acted like this. He had never intentionally hurt me before, and his doing so now was treading into uncharted territory. I didn't know what he would do next, and it made me uneasy.
He tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear, averting his eyes to the floor. The blood was still running down his chin, red as ever. Why didn't he just wipe it off?
For an instant, I felt sorry for him. His head was hung low, orbs detached and isolated, and the injuries didn't make it any better either. He was so battered and bruised that it made me temporarily seethe with a spark of anger. How could someone do something like that? He had almost tried to kill me.
"Mello," I said hesitantly, trying to meet his eyes. "If you don't care for my assistance, then I suggest that you at least clean yourself up." I crossed my legs, fingers fumbling with the ends of my pant legs. Why was he being so unreasonable?
"Why, you kicking me out? Am I tainting your precious room?" he asked snobbishly, placing both of his palms on the wood of the floor. He sneered at me and glared.
"To be truthful, no," I replied, straightening my back. There was no knowing how he would react to my honest statement. I didn't want him here; I didn't even want him near me. He had almost tried to choke me to death, there was no way that I'd stick around for him to do it again.
I scooted back, unnerved by his penetrating glare. He must have noticed my slight retreat, because he suddenly leaned forward on his hands and knees. His hair swung down over his shoulders, caressing his face perfectly. He looked so...evilly majestic. There was no quite placing it, really. Even though I was starting to tremble, starting to feel the faint spring of fear traveling through my body, I couldn't help but stare at him.
He started crawling now, creeping his way towards me. Instinctively, I moved back, trying to get as much distance between us. He kept at it, crawling even closer whenever I scooted backwards. I watched as his blood dripped from his chin, leaving a trail of vermilion after his wake. I definitely wouldn't be the one to clean up his mess.
"Mello, stop," I ordered, the wall closing in behind me. My back softly thudded against it, my chest rising and falling feverishly. He was so close, only feet away from me. Why was he doing this? Was this some sort of twisted game of Cat and Mouse? I backed up against the wall, my face flushed and eyes trembling. Was he going to strangle me again? He was in front of me now, resting on his knees, his chest slowly heaving in and out. He looked down at me; cobalt orbs dully lit, lips parted slightly and blond hair slightly askew.
He leaned down, face in front of mine. I could feel his breath hot on my cheek. I tried to back away from him as much as I could. I kicked with my feet, shoved myself against the wall, and tried anything to get away from him, but he only seemed to follow my every move. All the while, he stared at me inertly, bangs slightly covering his eyes. His necklace dangled down from his neck, twisting and twirling through mid-air.
He then tilted his head, closing the distance between us inch by inch. Of course, dreadfully confused by his actions, I sharply turned my head to the side, away from him. My heart was beating madly, about to burst from my chest. My face felt hot, too hot for my liking. What was he doing? It certainly didn't look like he was about to strangle me...
I turned my face to meet his once more. He stared at me with wide eyes, as if he were confused. His mouth was drawn into a slight "o", his shoulders hunched.
"Get away," I said quickly, trying my best to calm myself. Of course, I failed. Suddenly, he leaned forward yet again, lips brushing my cheek. I shivered at the brief contact, eyes squinting. What did he just do?
"Near," he whispered. I tried to back away from him, but didn't succeed because of the damned wall. Why of all times? I clutched onto his shirt and tried to push him away. He was getting closer and closer! What was wrong with him? He only resisted my defense, pushing into me, then, he closed the distance between us all together.
My eyes widened, my cheeks flushing. His lips were pressed against mine so tenderly that I thought he was faking it. He pulled away, as if to study my reaction. A slow, malicious smirk painted his lips, his head cocked regally to the side. I didn't know what to think. Everything that I knew to be right suddenly felt like mud to me now. Was L really that wonderful? Was I really capable of being his successor? Was Mello really a boy?
My head lolled to the side, resting against the wall. What was I supposed to do in a situation like this? My eyes glazed over as Mello neared in again, planting his soft lips on my own. This time, he worked around a bit, prodding his tongue through the lining of my mouth. I opened them, too dizzy and disorientated to fend him off. They felt like clouds, his lips.
His tongue ravished my mouth, the slippery appendage tepidly rubbing against the roof of my mouth. I pressed in closer to him, too caught up in the heat of the moment. I clutched his shirt, my own tongue finally giving up its hiding place to play with Mello's. We pulled away after a few moments. I was out of breath, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed and mouth wet, red and swollen. I licked my lips, tasting the coppery tang of his blood. It was streaked through the cracks of my lips, like smeared lipstick. Mello was breathing heavily as well, red lips parted. He sat there on his knees, his usual straight blond hair messy and tangled; his face flushed and out of breathe. Still lost in my thoughts, I was surprised when he leaned forward again, grabbing hold of my waist. He sat me down in his lap, my legs straddling him. Was it wrong of us to be doing this?
His hand wrapped around the nape of my neck, bringing my head down to his. He planted a heated kiss upon my lips, ravishing them as if he were hungry.
"Ah!" he yelped and pulled away. I stared down at him, eyes glazed over and confused at the sudden departure. Why had he stopped?
I saw his pale fingers come up to touch his cut lip, tapping the injury gingerly. The blood was fainter now, probably do to the "swapping of our saliva", but it was still flowing freely. He licked his lips, trying to rid himself of the stinging pain. I licked my lips as well.
I leaned into him, mouth halting just in front of his. I hesitated, not really sure if I should do what I wanted to do. I gulped and acted on impulse. I licked over his cut slowly, licking his lips to rid him of the blood. I felt him shiver, his dull black orbs suddenly hazing over with lust. He pulled me closer to him, giving me another passionate kiss. I moaned within his mouth, his thumbs coming under my shirt to rub at the sides of my hips.
We broke away. He rolled me over so that he was straddling me now, bending over me like a covering veil. I could feel his erection prodding at my own.
"Take it off," he said quickly, quietly. I looked at him confusedly.
"Take what off?" I asked. He leaned down and kissed me again, swirling his tongue in my mouth. He broke away.
"Anything," he breathed, out of breath. I merely nodded. I looked down at myself, deciding which garment to take off first. The shirt I could get rid of, no problem with that, but wouldn't that take too much time since I'd have to unbutton it? I stared down at my pants. They were beginning to feel cumbersome to me. My member was already erect, it didn't need a garment such as a pair of pants to trap it down. But what if he didn't want to go there just yet? Did he even want to?
"Fuck it," Mello said suddenly and ripped off my shirt. The cold air met with my bare chest, causing me to shiver. He could have at least warned me.
He leaned down and suckled at my neck, nipping here and there, licking this way and that. I squirmed beneath him. My arms wrapped around his neck, his soft hair swishing against my arms. He was breathing all over me, sending me deadly shivers all the way throughout my body.
He trailed down lower, planting gentle yet fervent kisses down my chest. I arched into him as my arms left his neck.
"Ah," I moaned as his wet tongue glided over a sensitive nipple. He traveled lower and lower, finally resting below my navel. He kissed me there gently and breathed, wanting to get a reaction out of me. He didn't fail there.
I arched into him once more, throbbing member aching for his touch.
"M-mello..." I voiced shakily. I was afraid that if I were stimulated any further, that I'd lose it completely. He kissed me once more below my navel and proceeded to take my pants off. He discarded them, I didn't know where, not as if I really cared, and peeled off my boxers.
I was completely naked, spread wide for only his eyes to see. His face flushed even more while his eyes glazed over. He looked down at me hungrily, licking his lips in the process. He spread my legs open, his head moving lower and lower. He placed his lips on the inside of my thigh, sucking harshly at the tender skin that was there.
"Mmm," I murmured, spreading my legs even further.
"Near..." he whispered. He moved up to my shaft and went down on me, his tongue flicking over the head of my erection.
"Ahh," I moaned, back arching and hips bucking.
"...you're so beautiful," he finished. Then, he took me within his mouth. I clenched my teeth, trying hard not to scream. His tongue twirled over my throbbing member, his sucking growing faster by the second.
"Ah...a-ah," I breathed, thrusting into him. My fingers wound themselves within the locks of his hair, pushing him into me. As I felt myself almost at the edge of no reason, he stopped. He withdrew from me, leaning back. He flicked his eyes towards his pants and I suddenly understood.
I unbuckled his pants, parted with his boxers while he fumbled with his shirt. We both succeeded in getting the garments off and he too was naked before me, his cross-necklace pasted onto his chest. I stared down at his own aching erection and blushed.
He brought a finger to my mouth. I stared at him confusedly.
"Open," he commanded and I obeyed. I parted my lips, letting his finger enter.
I did. I flicked my tongue against his finger, sucking it like lolly-pop. He must have been turned on by it, for his cheeks reddened and he pressed in against me. I was still seated on his lap, my body rocking back and forth. Each time my erection rubbed against his stomach, I shuddered with overwhelming pleasure.
He withdrew his finger from my mouth, a trail of saliva leaving my lips. My face was fairly heated and I was disorientated. What was he going to do with his finger?
My eyes widened significantly as I felt his finger penetrate me. Tears welled in the corner of my eyes, ready to spill over. It hurt pretty badly, but as soon as he began moving around, a new sensation of pleasure quickly took over. He added another finger, stretching me even more.
"Ah," I moaned, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck. He finally pulled out, licking his fingers in the process. I turned away, embarrassed.
His head rested itself upon my chest, his arms snaking around my waist. We stayed like that for a while, skin touching skin, chests inhaling and exhaling together. He kissed my chest, rubbing the sides of my hips. I shivered at his touch.
"Just do it," I cut in, ashamed at how desperate my voice was. I was throbbing, I couldn't wait any longer. He kissed me softly on the lips and positioned himself.
He pushed himself in slowly, penetrating me. He did it gently, careful as to not injure me. I hugged him close, my fingers scraping against his back. It hurt a lot, stretching me to the core, but I bit my lip and took it all. Once fully in, he began moving, bucking his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm.
With each thrust I moaned, my erection rubbing against his abdomen. The mere friction of it all wanted to make me come, but I held back. I had to wait.
He went faster, each movement hitting me over and over. I moaned loudly when he hit my sweet spot.
"Ahh...ahhh," I breathed shakily, fingers clawing at his back. I pressed into him, member rubbing against his stomach. Any more movement and I thought I'd come all over him.
He moaned faintly, his forehead wet with perspiration.
I pressed into him, his shaft burying me to the hilt. I moved along as well, bobbing up and down as he thrusted.
"Ohhh," I moaned, nearing the edge. "M-mello...I'm going to..."
He came first, aroused by my moaning. I felt his seed enter me, fill me to the core.
"A-ah!" I gasped and I gushed too, coating his abdomen with a fresh layer of semen. I rested my head in the crook of his neck, out of breath and breathing heavily. He hugged me close, our chests pressing together.
He was still inside me, I could feel him. I lifted my head, kissing the bruise over his eye. He licked at my lips in return.
"Blood," he breathed. I touched my lips, my fingers smearing over them. I looked down at the tips of my fingers. Indeed, there was blood. He licked at them, wiping the blood off with his tongue. Then he pulled out of me, lying me down on the bare floor. I shivered, warmth no longer flowing through my body. I lied there, naked and exposed. He leaned over me, throwing himself atop of my body. His head rested between the crook of my neck, as if he were a little child. I draped my legs over his, shivering at his breath hot against my neck.
"Who gave you those injuries?" I asked out of the blue. I still wondered at what happened to him.
"It doesn't concern you," he replied, his fingers trailing circle patterns over my bare chest. I closed my eyes at the vibrations of his voice against my skin. If he didn't want to talk about it, then I wouldn't press the matter any further. I started playing with the strands of his hair, rubbing the blond locks between my fingers.
"You're really good," I said off-handedly.
"And you're really tight."
I smiled at that and pulled him closer. A few moments passed by, neither of us saying anything. His breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling steadily.
"Mello," I called softly, tugging at a strand of his hair. He didn't respond.
"Mello." Again, no answer. I looked down at him and smiled wryly. He had fallen asleep. His eyelids were shut, his mouth slightly open. He needed rest anyway, what with those injuries and that strenuous workout due to our little rutting session. I slid out from under him, rolling him over so that he rested on his back.
I looked down at his sleeping form, amazed at how harmless he looked. Then an evil smile spread itself upon my lips, my eyes glinting mischievously.
Now...it was my turn.