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Say That Again	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Het-Male/Female Views: 1956 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Say That Again
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Title: "Say That Again"
Author: Sashocirrione
Spoilers: MAJOR Spoilers for everything up to approximately episode 8 of the anime.
Warnings: NO UNDERAGE READERS. Rated M for a reason. Sexual activities. Dominant/submissive. Knife play. Food play.
Summary: Naomi Misora decides to show Raye Penber just who is really in charge.
Pairing: NaomixRaye
Additional Notes: All canon events previous to this have happened as normal. The first little bit of this is nearly identical to the start of anime episode 5, just to show the place of the divergence, and after that it's different.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.
CHAPTER 1
Getting back to the hotel room after the bus hijacking was exhausting. Raye just wanted to lie down, or have a stiff drink. Maybe both. Definitely both.
He immediately saw Naomi was reading a book, but he knew she was really just occupying her mind, sitting up waiting for him. She looked up and greeted him the moment he opened the door. He tried to smile at her. It wasn't right to make her worry.
Still, he couldn't prevent himself from sighing as he threw his jacket on the bed, and said, "What a day!"
Naomi said, "Raye, what's the matter? Something happened, didn't it? I've never heard you sigh like that."
She was sharp, too sharp. She always picked up on things. It was useless, really, to try and hide it from her.
Raye loosened his tie, leaned back in his chair and told her about it, while Naomi busied herself in the kitchenette, pouring cups of hot tea that she must have had prepared all morning, just for his return.
When he finished the story and she brought the teacups over, she said, "You know, it's a little hard to believe that was all a coincidence, don't you think?"
And that fast, it was suddenly an argument. He was worried about her, and he could tell he just needed to rest before using his brain again, but instead it was like being interrogated and he knew he was losing the argument, and he just wanted some quiet instead, instead of her bothersome prodding. It felt like being under a hot, bright spotlight.
He snapped out, "You're not an FBI agent anymore, so just leave it alone."
"But-"
He continued, "You wouldn't get involved in the Kira case and you wouldn't do anything dangerous, that's what you promised when we decided you'd come along so I could meet your parents in Japan. You do remember that, don't you?"
"Yeah, it's just a force of habit. Sorry about that."
"No, I should be sorry. Let's forget about it. Anyway, once we have a few kids running around, you'll probably be so busy you'll forget you were ever an agent. Your mind will be occupied with better things, too. More importantly-"
Naomi said, "Excuse me? What did you say?"
He could practically feel the heated anger in her voice. She was broiling mad. It was making the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the prickling starting up there and running down his spine.
She stood up slowly, looming over him like a mother bear about to strike, every movement precise and controlled.
I've done it now. I didn't think and-
Naomi ordered, "Say that again!"
This is more extreme than any other time... more intense... I've never seen her like this. It is simply...
Thrilling at the danger coiling in his stomach, smooth and ice-cold, Raye blurted out, "Get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich. Women are only good for cooking and babies, they can't think like men can!"
She raised a single eyebrow and said, "Oh, really?"
Her voice was cold and dangerous. He was sure it could put fear into hardened criminals. His heart was beating fast, his exhaustion replaced by adrenaline.
She was going into the kitchenette. She was rummaging around in drawers where he couldn't see, producing ominous rustlings and bangs. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, then running down and stinging his eyes with salt.
Naomi was returning, a knife in one hand and a plastic squeeze-bottle of honey in the other.
She said, "Get on the floor. On your back!"
Raye didn't argue; he just tried to choose the best place, where a throw-rug on top of the carpet provided better cushioning. He was already hard, anticipating being smothered beneath her white-hot anger, and his thoughts were broken. All he could think was: She's going to destroy my belt- this is my best belt- she's going to slice it to pieces- where am I going to find another good belt in Tokyo on short notice- my belt- my belt- no more belt for me.
But the rest of his mind, the part that wasn't thinking in words, was completely focused on her, on the sinuous motions she made, like a tiger, on the way she planted a foot possessively in the middle of his chest, pressing down with her boot and making him struggle to gasp his breaths, focused on the wordless, instinctual knowledge that she would completely own him for as long as she wanted to be rutting on the floor.
Then she was pulling up that foot, stepping out of her boots and her tight jeans, her practically painted-on jeans, but she kept her sleek dark sweater, and the thong of almost the same color, lacy and perhaps just a bit damp. She was kneeling over him, sliding the knife tip under the bottom of his shirt. He shivered as the cold metal slid upward, the blunt side against his skin, yet oh so dangerous-feeling, and the sharp side neatly slicing through his shirt with that odd whispering-zinging sound of cloth being cut.
She kept with her project, slicing up each sleeve, leaving him flayed of clothing from the waist up, laying on the ragged remains of his shirt, naked and exposed to her desires. Her eyes were smoldering and wicked. He couldn't help but think that he deserved it.
And then he gasped as she made short work of his belt- the knife was so, so very sharp, and then the knife was sliding downward inside his pants, inside his underwear. He let out an involuntary whine as a shock of fear went through him, the knife going right past his erection, cold metal making him twitch and gasp and harden further at the dangerous proximity, peeling open his clothing as it went by his most vulnerable area, going down a leg. All the paths of the dull side of the knife lingered on his skin, electric, tingling.
Naomi was efficient and quick, going down the other leg with the knife and peeling him like a fruit, leaving him completely open, his skin breaking out in goose bumps everywhere. She was so powerful when she was angry. Her face was hard and closed, and he longed for her next order, thrilling for the punishment she would decide on.
She knelt over him, straddling his stomach, still clutching knife and honey in each hand, and she said, "Raye, maybe I should show you what women are good for."
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Say That Again