Redeemer

The blindfold was smooth silk and sinfully red against honey colored eyes, losing itself in amber hair. The senses always did work better if one or two were taken away. Mello had opted for the easiest one for now, severing Kira’s sight and essentially stealing away that last bit of control Light had had over the situation. There was only one thing left: that safe word. Would he use it or was his pride as swollen as his cock?

It was still left to be seen.

Restraints were far too easy to come by, as it was a simple matter of digging through Mello’s own bags in the other room. It was how Light had been deftly bound within minutes, Mello exacting out the necessary means with a familiarity that clearly indicated Light was not his first victim. Far from it. Wrists were bound tight, not with the handcuffs he’d been accustomed to but wide leather bracers, which were then connected to a short, heavy chain which kept his arms spread open high above his head and aptly secured to the bed frame.

Light, Mello noticed with a nudge of satisfaction, was breathing heavily. And he had yet to even touch him. But Kira did try to follow the blonde’s every move, turning his head to each source of noise Mello made in his preparations. Though soon those hands were upon him; firm grip and eager mouth, unbuttoning his jeans, tugging off the heavy damp denim with excruciating leisure. Just as anticipated, Kira was squirming. Impatient and delighting all at once. Soon enough he would start cursing. Mello could not wait. Jeans cast aside, Mello trailed a lone finger along Light’s length, tipping it off by a languid brush of his tongue. Taunting, always taunting. It was his nature. Light groaned and Mello grinned against that throbbing all-too-sensitive flesh.

It was the shift of the bed and the cool brush of metal along Light’s torso that indicated the blond was drawing near, assuming it was the touch of the rosary he felt, and even though the source was half right and it had indeed been a metal cross to trail oh-so-slowly along his chest, it was the cold, harsh barrel of an all too familiar gun that jabbed Light under his chin, forcing his head backward.

“I’ll guarantee that you enjoy this,” Mello’s husky voice sounded beside him, lips brushing his ear and the press of a leather-clad knee assaulted his groin. “You’re mine now. Your pleasure depends on how generous I’m feeling at the time and you will hurt,” he promised Kira with a sharp nip and press of that dangerously positioned knee. “Before the night is over, you will be begging for release.”

He did not so much as wait for whatever response Light could come up with – if his mind was still ticking properly at all – before leaning back. The gun was abandoned and there was the spark of a small flame to his right. The faint scent of sandalwood and before long Light was crying out sharply as the first drop of wax landed upon his chest—back arching, arms straining, causing it to drip over pre-existing scars and the smooth contour of toned muscles before drying against his flesh.

He was panting harder now, and Mello had to wonder with wild amusement if Light had any idea what he was getting himself into? Perhaps not—this would be a test of endurance then for Kira, because he’d fully relinquished himself into Mello’s domain.

Mello sat back on his haunches, rosary swinging against a bare chest, leather stretched taut, though probably not as taut as that proud column of flesh he was staring at, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour of Light’s supine, bound body. Damnit, Kira looked good in bondage. This was the submission all of his enemies dreamed of. Mello’s grin spread and he leaned over, letting Light anticipate the next pour of wax—where would it be? He couldn’t possibly prepare himself, and Mello titled the candle, the searing liquid splashing against Light’s stomach, Light crying out, arching, unable to escape the burn as it solidified to his skin.

“Shsss,” Mello coaxed, pressing his hand to Light’s cheek, rubbing it affectionately, a firm thumb stroking over his parted lips, slipping past them to slide against his tongue; and Mello poured the wax again—over the tight bud of a dark nipple. Light hissed, jerked, bit down on Mello’s thumb—Mello chewed his lips at the pain, his own sex painfully hard in its leather confines, and still Mello was waiting for Light to say ‘stop,’ waiting for Kira to realize the pain he’d willingly asked for was probably not the sort of pain he’d had in mind—but he made no such plea. Good, because they’d barely even started…

Dry wax was easily picked off—after all, Mello had to make room for the debauchery to continue. The blonde lifted off a still-warm piece, eying the faintly pink flesh beneath and, as if to make up for the hurt caused, slid his tongue along the area much like a cat would lap at the wound. However his intentions were not so saintly. A mere distraction. That fiery touch toppled over the edge of the candle to spread and smear low upon Light's left hip. Mello delighted in the way he groaned through gritted teeth, panting raggedly at the overwhelming sensations that were almost too much to handle but too good—far too good and promising—to dismiss. Who'd ever thought that ‘God’ would turn out to be such a lovely masochist.

The candle was returned to the nightstand. For now. There were plenty of other tricks up his sleeve and now that it was pain Light was anticipating and had prepared himself for, it would be pleasure—albeit controlled—that would be forced upon him. Again a distraction—the brush of lips so soft, so fleeting against his sex, the promise of that practiced tongue doing things that would have him screaming, but Mello had other plans and when the toy—a simple, already sleeked bullet - was pressed to his unprepared entrance, Light practically jumped with a gasp. Both size and lube helped in the cause, however, and so when the intruding devise was flicked on to an agonizing low vibration setting, Light was throwing his head back, nails digging into his own palms.

The true torment had just begun.

His gasping was delicious and something told Mello, Kira was not very well acquainted with toys. His face was flushed, with not only pleasure, but shame—the kind of shame Mello was aiming for—proud Kira, now debased.

“That’s good,” Mello purred, pushing the bullet in further, turning the vibration up just a bit more—Light’s chest was heaving, and he was hiding his face in his arm, his body glistening and trembling with the unwanted pleasure at the end of such a humiliating device. No he was not used to this at all—perhaps at hands-on carnality he was an expert, most likely even the bondage itself, seeing as how he’d lived at the other end of L’s handcuffs, but this was new to him, and Mello was loving every second. Kira may have gotten the sex he was aiming for, but Mello was winning this round.

He cupped Light’s cheek, turned his face forward, toy still hard at work inside of Light’s shuddering body as Mello tenderly brushed the bangs away from his face. The pseudo-gentle coaxing coupled with the humiliation was turning Light almost as red as his blindfold. It was obvious he hated it and wanted it all at the same time.

“Open your legs wider,” Mello commanded, for no other reason than to degrade him further—and considering Light’s momentary hesitation at the order, he was definitely feeling the effects of the mindfucking Mello was just beginning.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” Mello said, low and firm, smiling when Light at last complied, edging his thighs open wider, so utterly exposed and helplessly splayed like a divine sacrifice on Mello’s altar. And Mello rewarded him by taking the speed up another notch—which made Light practically sob his pleasure…and his shame.

Ah but he had asked for it, had he not? Possession, pain, humiliation. Mello was willing to dish out all of the above and go above and beyond expectations. How much was Kira willing to take before he crumbled? Mello was watching him intently, his own near-painful arousal for now forgotten and shoved aside. That would be tended to soon enough. He had an agenda to meet, and besides, ignoring that dull throb against tight leather was not a foreign concept. Light had crossed the boundaries right into his territory and until now, was behaving rather nicely.

When the bed shifted and the distinct sound of Mello’s retreating footsteps were heard heading the opposite direction, Light just about panicked—thinking he would be abandoned as such?—tugging frantically at the chains, which were most definitely not about to give. The only thing he would give himself were nice leather burns along his wrists, and of course there was the business of that innocent little toy that with each squirming movement from Light's part, only caused further jolts of pleasure to shoot through him, causing him to cry out sharply in a mixture of frustration and pleasure.

But Mello returned soon enough, chuckling quietly at the sight. The sheets had been practically been kicked off by Light's flailing limbs, which resulted in a rather erotic picture as Kira lay bound to the bedframe, panting and gasping, flushed in pleasure, not knowing what to do with himself. But oh how those lips were parted, how the soft cries of outrage and those traitorous moans of pleasure fell upon that mouth. Delightful. Mello had to consider himself lucky at not only witnessing but creating such a lovely sight, though the time for appreciation was over within moments as he returned to the mattress. And while the candle still burned, he did not resort to it again so soon. No, he would first push Light to the brink of sanity where that denied last bit of pleasure would have him kicking and screaming for the sweet release he sought.

It was cold as it fell upon his abdomen, thin and sticky and decidedly of a liquid substance. But it was not until the unfamiliar substance was eagerly lapped up by the slow and all too precise brush of Mello's tongue, eliciting soft little sounds from his captive, that the first hint was given as to its nature. The kiss came next, heated and ruthless and tasting strongly of the chocolate in which he'd just indulged at Light's sake.

Mello caught Light’s lower lip in his teeth, pulling ever so gently, before pouring the cold chocolate sauce over that tender nipple he’d already abused with wax, and he went to work lapping at the taut bud, laving it with bites and licks, making a venerable meal out of the sensitive area until Light was writhing and whimpering and still suffering from the intrusive little device inside him.

“Please,” he panted.

Mello groaned at the very word.

“Please what, Light?” he purred, a slow drag of long nails down Light’s stomach.

Light’s lips clamped shut—ah, he obviously realized he was about to add to his own humiliation by begging.

Mello grinned, nails now dragging up Light’s sensitive thigh—he jerked, twisted away. “Please what?” Mello prompted again.

No answer.

“Say it,” Mello coaxed, “Beg me, Kira,” and as he spoke, he twisted two fingers hard into Light’s body, pushing the toy in further, but now accompanying it, and delighting in how Light arched off the mattress at the intrusion.

Mello found his pleasure spot, flicked an unmerciful finger against it, and the erotic agony visibly shot through his captive god. “Say it,” he demanded again.

Light grit his jaw, teeth clenched, and Mello raked a nail hard inside him—right there.

Light cried out, limbs straining, nails now leaving bloody little crescents in his palm.

“Beg me to let you cum,” Mello purred and Light twisted his head away, pressing it into the crook of his elbow.

Ah a little fight in him yet—lovely.

"I can do this all night, you know..." he murmured and without warning, removed those intruding fingers, which created a greater shock than their initial insertion. The sudden emptiness within him causing Light more distress than comfort as all he was left with just then was that damned toy, vibrating him into oblivion. "And I will do it..." Mello accented his words with the drop of hot wax upon the sensitive area of Light's inner thigh. Teasing pleasure replaced by the sharp stab of pain. A quick reminder of Mello's saintly impatience, but there was nothing holy about him now as he hovered above this self-proclaimed earthly deity.

The sharp pain was accompanied by the warm press of Mello’s mouth, lips parting and swallowing Light down, teeth grating at hypersensitive skin and eliciting a most delightful sound from Kira's lips. But Mello was not out to please. Light had yet to say the words and so that moment of pleasure was taken away as quickly as it was bestowed upon him. Light's mind was reeling. And then blank as long fingers wound around the base of his length, tightening sharply, relentlessly. Downright ruthless. Mello watched that beautiful face contort through several expressions in the blink of an eye, wanton all throughout.

"Are you ready to beg me now?" he purred huskily, tightening his hold to the point he knew crossed the boundary between pleasure and pain, landing quite firmly on the latter as he flicked his tongue across the weeping head, watching Kira all the while.

Light jerked, crying out, and his breathing had shallowed dramatically—in fact, he was going slightly pale at the strangulation hold Mello had on his sex. “I can end this for you,” Mello purred, nipping at the tender underside of Light’s cock—another jerk, a wanted struggle, but Light knew quite correctly that Mello wasn’t going to let go, so if he struggled, it was going to hurt—badly.

“Beg,” Mello said.

Silence—then, “please.”

“Please what?”

Light couldn’t say it, the gears were grinding somewhere inside—he’d lost control of this situation a long time ago and Mello pursed his lips.

“Ah, fine,” the blonde grunted, suddenly pressing Light’s sex back against his stomach, and in one swift move, he reached for the candle. Light sensed it, he knew what Mello was about to do—dignity be damned: “No! No!” he cried, trying to shoot up, but Mello shoved him back. No, was not the safe word.

An instant later the wax was being dripped onto that straining, weeping length—and Light bucked violently, practically screaming at the pain, so much so that Mello had to lay on top of him to steady him, petting his hair back—“Shssss,” he purred, stroking Light’s face as he strained and shuddered and tried to ride it out—and at that point, there were positive tears soaking that silky red blindfold. Yes, Mello had just brought Kira to tears.

He leaned in, planting a kiss against Light’s gasping lips, a slight peck at first, slowly deepening before his tongue was introduced and he was kissing him in earnest, distracting him from the burn, waiting for it to pass, before Mello pulled back to study his handiwork. Light’s chest was heaving, but he was still rock hard even after that—which brought a smile to Mello’s lips.

Though what had worked even better, was the mind fucking: because Light was blindfolded he couldn’t see that Mello was just sitting there admiring him, instead he felt Mello’s presence bearing down on him, and assumed he was still waiting for an answer—and in the most ragged voice Mello had ever heard from Kira’s divine lips, Light panted: “Please… make me cum.”

Alas he speaks. Mello lifted a brow, the words—the way in which they were said—brought shivers down his spine. "As you wish," he purred, running a lone digit along the line of Light's jaw before leaning up and breaking from him, retrieving the relentless toy and tossing it carelessly aside. Light was panting, in need, in anticipation, lips parched, bound arms trembling, blunt nails carving red half moons into his palms. And at that moment the blonde could hardly contain himself, but he held off just long enough to smear a hasty coat of lubricant upon his sex before descending upon his godly prisoner.

Nails raked red lines up Light's thigh as Mello lifted it up, bent it back, pulling Kira’s pelvis hard and firm into Mello’s own lap, grip firm on narrow hips. And Mello pushed inside then, hard and brutal—groaning as Light cried out, his whole body arching in near-shock at the blunt force of the penetration—so much so that Mello had to pin him back, and just because he'd been merciful enough to ease some of Light's suffering by making use of lube, did not mean that Mello would be merciful from then on. Far from it. If anything that extra slickness only aided in the deep, ruthless thrusts that pounded into him, stealing breath as well as cries from Light's mouth.

And they were certainly cries of divine agony—mingling with debauched pleasure sure—but the honest grind of pain in that beautiful voice only made Mello drive into Light harder. And Light couldn’t fight him, he had no advantage whatsoever—Kira was stripped before this altar like a sinner on Judgment Day, and with each stabbing thrust, his yelps and groans of pain got deeper, hoarser, more desperate. “Itai,” he panted—only this time, he truly meant it. This time that word wasn’t flung out at Mello to control him, it was an honest plea, and it became a mantra, thrust after thrust: “Itai, itai—please—itai,” ragged, without sound, and often interrupted by the pain.

Light was going limp beneath him, head thrown back against the drenched mattress, his thrashing earlier had tossed the pillows aside, so the pressure of his own weight, and now Mello’s combined, dragged on his arms, which were most likely numb already from blood loss. But he felt far too good inside, and Mello was fucking him with abandon, their bodies pressed so tightly together, the friction hard and unforgiving against Light’s abused sex, which Mello was neglecting in favor of pushing down harder on his hips to get the best angle…

But hurt as it might, no safeword had yet to be uttered. No honest plea to end it all, just like that. No. He did hurt, sure enough and Mello believed it, but he was also taking away every erotic drop of pleasure. He wanted it to stop and yet... didn't. Oh, how Kira did not want to lose that reckless pressure, that sting, that hurt, that delight that ripped his very mind open with feeling.

And watching every last muddled thought laid bare upon those flushed features, how could Mello do anything but fuck him hard—each well aimed thrust deep enough to rip strangled cries from his prisoner's throat. Cries which were reduced to senseless groans as Mello shifted his position and finally pressed Light's cock into his palm, fingers tugging at the strained length and spoiling him at last with the well-earned release he so craved. Mello’s own creeping up on him faster than anticipated; the lengthy games and rough sex afflicting him more than he'd originally thought. Thumb pressed down upon the weeping head and ironically it was Mello who groaned, burying himself deeply upon Light's utterly debauched body.

"C'mon..." he whispered huskily, looking up to him even though Light would have no idea. It did not matter. Not when everything was already fuzzing around the edges and he wanted nothing more than to feel the shivers that would wrack his body; to watch as that last thread of control was released and Kira was spilling hotly into his hand with the throes of ecstasy.

It was that final deeply straining thrust as Mello emptied himself inside of Light’s body, his gasping strangled with the sort of pleasure that bloomed white before his eyes—the intrusive flush of warmth, of Mello’s seed claiming him fully, that finally tipped Light over his own edge, his body wracked in the grip of hard unforgiving ecstasy. He heaved beneath Mello, arching up, gasping sharp and ragged, flooding Mello’s hand with his own warmth until there was just nothing left of him, until his entire pleasure was spent and he at last wilted boneless in Mello’s arms; panting and unable to move.

Mello needed his own moments to recover—still sealed rather messily inside of Light’s body, listening to their pounding heartbeats compete with each other, before he at last had will enough to pull out—and Light was so very raw inside that even though Mello lifted himself away gently, Light still jerked hard in pain.

“Shss, it’s okay,” Mello muttered thoughtlessly, now utterly exhausted. He did, however, manage to lift up and release Light from his constrictive binds. Light’s arms flopped against the bed, and Mello eased him up, Light pretty much sitting in his lap, draped over Mello’s shoulder, absolutely immobile as Mello plucked the knot of the blindfold free.

He let the fabric fall, and found himself in essence with an armful of trembling, abused Kira, whose sudden tears—Pain? Relief? Pleasure?—Mello felt rolling down his arm…

Mello was unabashedly surprised but did not comment, nor did he pull away, going so far as to run his fingers through those mussed amber strands, running still shaky digits in circles at the back of Light's neck. Offering comfort all the while not calling attention to his distress. The game was over after all, and so Light could have some of his dignity back.

Mello did not ask him if he was all right, not just yet. In fact, he did not say a word to him, letting those tears flood as long as they needed without interruption. Who would have ever thought that it would be he to sit there, holding Kira firmly in his arms as the latter shed unexplainable tears—more than likely brought forth by the onslaught of sensation he'd endured. Too much all at once when he had been so keen on keeping most if not all emotion shut so deep inside and away from the outside world. When had it become shut away from himself? Mello had noticed the gradual breaking down of walls and shields around him, but this... this was beyond anything he had yet to witness and probably would ever witness again.

And so Mello sank down against the pillows, pulling Kira's battered body against him, feeling the exhaustion already kicking in. Light still shuddered softly, his tears silent but still hot against the blonde's bare skin. And Mello could not help the faint ghost of a smile that traced across his lips as he peered down at him. It was almost... endearing.

* * *

The sun was filtering in through the slat in the blinds, spilling slowly up the foot of the bed, over the entwined figures. At some point Mello had pulled the sheets back on, a distinctive chill in the night air, and the fabric was now twisted around him…and the lover still fallen quietly against his chest. In his dreamy daze, Mello just automatically assumed it was Matt, until he rubbed his eyes, the events of the night before slowly drifting in, and he crooked a glance down.

Light had his head on Mello’s shoulder, face partially nuzzled in the crook of Mello’s neck, his body pressed tightly to Mello’s flank with an arm wrapped across his torso, and Mello had been cradling him the whole time, cupping Light’s shoulder, keeping him close. A pair of lovers, he and Kira—and Kira had essentially cried himself to sleep, hadn’t he? It was indescribable, inexplicable, and it made Mello reach across to cup Light’s handsome face, drawing a thumb gently over those slightly parted lips.

It had started out as a game, sure enough—but somewhere along the way Mello suspected it became entirely too real for Light—so real he didn’t quite know how to deal with it. What demons did he face by allowing himself to be so dominated, and debauched? Or was it more that he had allowed himself to trust so firmly—trust that Mello, for all intents and purposes, would not essentially harm him? Would not bring him to a place he couldn’t be brought back from? There had to be a moment where Light realized his control was forfeit, and that moment most likely frightened him to no end. But here he was now, curled against his tormentor… his lover… his friend?

Was that what they were? Sure enough, Kira’s tears had forced Mello to yet again, look at him in a new light—the more he saw, the more he understood what L did…and right now, the more he wondered what Light would do once he opened his eyes… his cries last night were real. That time they fucked in the bathroom, Light had played Mello from start to finish—he probably figured he could play him the same way last night, but it hadn’t worked. At what point was he frightened? Mello couldn’t help but wonder. And maybe it wasn’t until the end—until the pleasure had passed, until Light was heaped in Mello’s arms, unable to do much else but feel. What did he think? What had gone through his mind? Whatever it was, it probably would be very different once he woke up now.

That was okay, to be expected. What was rather unexpected was how Mello enjoyed just watching him sleep at that moment. Light looked so different in his sleep. He looked innocent, angelic, something that needed protection. This was what all his lovers saw wasn’t it? The shade of his untainted self—the self before Kira, it had the power to convince people like Amane that Light did love her, to convince Takada that she was doing good by writing down names in the Death Note, to convince Mikami that he was indeed in the presence of divinity…and L…it convinced L that there was something to save after all.

Mello wondered if this now meant his own name could be scratched to that list. Light was perfect just then—he looked perfect, he felt perfect, and Mello was pretty certain he could just lay there for hours and hold him that way, shield him, keep Light far away from himself… at least until Mello’s rational frame of mind finally decided to pay him a visit.

And despite all those too-deep-for-early-morning thoughts that kept running around Mello’s complacent mind, there was one thought he continued to grin at as it made the laps—god the sex had been good.

Yea, it had been good. Too good. Good enough that Mello was convinced Light would be feeling its effects for awhile. But that would not come for a few hours yet. The glow that slanted through the windows was far too pale. Too early. Mello shot a glance at the nightstand and with some effort reached for his phone, moving as little as possible as to not disturb Light just yet. Fingers at last hooked onto its decorative grooves and he snatched it off the tabletop to flick it open.

6:12

Mello scoffed, depositing the phone back on the nightstand. Most definitely far too early to be even thinking about functioning. After the previous night's excursions, it was far too easy to slink back to sleep, finding it utterly ironic that he could not only rest, but do so peacefully enough with the entity that had once upon a time been his greatest enemy pressed against him like a most familiar lover.

* * *

It was several hours later when Mello came to for the second time, woken by an all too annoying beep all too close to his fucking head. With a half-muttered curse, eyes were peeled to reveal amber strands still at his side. Oh. Right. Blinking groggily he found the source of noise and eyed the front screen of his phone. Missed call. Shit.

It took some effort to un-bury himself from beneath Light's slumbering form, but he managed the feat without waking him and quietly slipped out of bed, padding only as far as the windows to check the source of the call, even though he already knew it. Matt's name popped up predictably. An hour ago. It was already 10:20. How he had managed to sleep an extra four hours, he did not even begin to guess.

Mello shot a glimpse toward the bed and, dialing the familiar number, quietly stepped out into the living room.

"So you are still alive after all." That was the greeting, mildly sarcastic, but mirthful all the same in that subdued tone only Matt was capable of.

"Kind of-"

"You sound like shit."

"Jus' woke up."

Silence. Mello strode into his own bedroom, rummaging through bags until he found a loose - as far as his own standards go - pair of pants to slip into just so that he was not parading around the house in the nude. "Otherwise everything is all right over there?" the redhead asked after a moment's pause.

"Yea. Everything's under control."

"Mello." Shit. "Why do I get the impression that once all of this mess is over, we're going to be having some hefty words?"

A breath touched his lips. He needed coffee and padded into the kitchen. "Because," he began quietly. No use denying the truth they were all too aware of. "You know me better than anyone else in this world."

There was a stern pause on the other end—Matt wanted to say something, he wanted to say something that was uncharacteristic, but he changed his mind.

Mello changed the subject. This would be addressed, most likely sooner rather than later the moment Matt moved in here with them, and Mello was now nicely set up square in the middle wasn’t he? Probably what Light intended initially.

“How’s L?” Mello said, shoving the coffee pot together, his brain already jumping to that first jolt of much-needed caffeine…so why did part of him want to crawl back under the sheets with Light? Damnit.

“L is L,” Matt said. “Can’t get two words out of him other than good morning or good night. He did call his doctor though; he’s flying him in from London.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” There was a glimmer of panic in Mello’s voice.

“He just wants a second opinion on his condition—you know that doctor of his is something of a psychologist as well.”

And what was Matt suggesting there? Mello already knew. L was troubled. L was having difficulty keeping the ends together. Not that the current situation was helping.

“Just keep me posted,” Mello grumbled.

“You got it,” and boy did that tone ever have an edge.


* * *


Part of Mello was convinced he just needed to let Light wake up on his own, nevertheless he came back into the bedroom with a second cup off coffee—setting it down on the dresser, his gaze drifting over Light’s still sleeping form—the buttery hue of his soft skin looked good against the sheets, shaggy amber hair fanned out across the pillow, he’d changed position and was now quite luxuriously taking up the entire bed at a diagonal.

Mello crouched down, leaning against the edge of the mattress, and it was too comfortable to brush the bangs out of Light’s face just then, to fold a thumb against his warm cheek—why did Mello have this constant need to touch him lately?

“You are the single most dangerous person I’ve ever met,” Mello muttered.

Of course Light’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk. “Thank you.” He replied, his eyes still closed—but he was awake. For how long? Mello scoffed, should have seen that coming.

“But I’m still not sure what to make of your toy fetish,” Light quipped and that was a joke wasn’t it? "I'm really not sure moving is a good idea either."

At that Mello had to grin. "Make what you want of it," he replied devilishly. "In the end you still enjoyed it." Ah, son of a bitch, calling him on it like that. "Roll around all you want, but get up enough to have some coffee," he lured him by practically waving a mug of the aromatic concoction in front of Light's face. Flavored. Sweet. Likely containing some sort of chocolate combination.

It was deposited carefully into Light's hands once he finally brought it upon himself to sit up - but just enough to lounge gracefully across a pile of pillows. If Mello didn't know better he'd say Kira was posing for him, there and then, sprawled upon the bed he'd been chained to only the previous night, golden skin highlighted by the sunlight that streamed through partly open blinds. His gaze hidden beneath the fall of messy bangs, so unlike him and yet suited him far too goddamn well. He sipped at the coffee, all too aware of Mello's eyes on him. Arrogant bastard.

Mello pushed himself up. "I'm getting in the shower. Try to get a bit coherent in the meantime. You've got work to do once the delivery guys clear out." And it was a darker sort of work he was referring to. It was going on two days that Kira had been absent from the ring. Two days since L has been stolen from right from beneath their noses. But the most startling point was that it had been Mello to remind him, albeit in not so many words, of this fact. That, even though everything seemed to be turned on its end, there was still work to do. Near's presence could not compromise their own plans and for that, Kira must be Kira.

Light’s devilish mouth hitched up into a smirk and he caught Mello by the wrist before Mello could get up from the bed.

“Kiss me, first,” Kira purred.

Mello laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

Light’s smile spread wider, “I know,” and he was slowly tugging Mello’s arm along, pulling Mello closer until Mello leaned in of his own accord and captured Light’s lips. Maybe he intended it to be a short, simple kiss, but that never worked out very well between them, and it went deep quickly until Mello’s lungs burned for air and blindspots flashed before his eyes and he pulled away only to press his head against Light’s.

Light’s fingers fluttered through Mello’s blond hair. “Shower with me,” he purred a second later. Kira wanted his control back and that little request had Mello at a loss. Green eyes met amber ones and saw the power there—how much power Kira held in his eyes, and Mello had taken that away from him last night.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Light said lowly. Hmm, no, he wouldn’t would he, that would probably explain why not five minutes later they were tangled naked with each other, kissing passionately beneath a fall of hot water…

* * *

As it turned out, that quick shower Mello had anticipated turned into anything but. It was, in fact, quite lengthy as they lost themselves in each other – in heated kisses and sharp bites and equally heated touches.

Mello was standing in front of the mirror after, at last, getting through the shower proper, hair dripping trails down his chest, when the buzzer scared him half to death. With a hissed curse upon his lips, he wrapped a towel around his waist and strode just like that through the near-empty living room to answer the door. A sharp look was enough to earn the men’s silence as they came in, setting large boxes along the walls, and what looked to be grocery bags into the kitchen. Mello supervised in silence, chewing idly on a bar of chocolate. Who’d ever thought anyone could command that much respect all the while sitting in nothing more than a towel?

The door closed and peaceful silence returned. Mello was leaning over the desk, fresh cup of coffee in hand, when Light finally emerged from the bathroom, giving the recently arrived clutter a brief glance. The blonde did not so much as look up from the double screens, gaze shifting from one to the other as he pulled up the personal network Matt had set up between them. Something he should have done the previous night before things got out of hand. A slip on his part, and a risky one. One he would not have let slide had his mind been his own. But it hadn’t.

In fact, his mind had not been his own ever since Light had started his initial seduction; from the moment they had crossed the line between utter enemies to something a bit more… tolerable. Now look at them. Sharing a flat, sharing dinner, sharing a fucking bed and a goddamned shower. And ever since that first hint of seduction, that first electric touch of lips, Mello’s mind had not quite been his own. Regardless of how good–how excellent–the sex was between them, there was more to it than that. The physical attraction was more than definitely there, the intense chemistry between them proved that much, but in both their cases there were elements of the other’s personality that had a strange sort of… appeal. Greatest enemies one moment, fuckbuddies the next. He had given it little thought–it was better that way. The moment he started truly thinking was when the situation would get even more complicated.

So long as he did not give it much deeper thought, Mello could keep himself partially convinced that he still had partial control of the situation. He’d had it the previous night. He’d stolen that much away from Light and even though Kira had returned flashing subtle fangs this morning, Mello could still see through his guise. He could still see through the games being played and yet… he’d gone along with it. He’d simply… gone along with it.

“I’ve got you all set up,” he told Light, straightening up. That towel hung dangerously low upon slender hips. “We’re not gonna be going anywhere for a while, so might as well stay ahead of the game before the shit hits the fan.”

“Hmm, right,” and Light flashed him the kind of smirk that alluded to Mello’s ragged gasping in the shower earlier when Light shoved him face-first against the wall, held him by the hair, reached around and jerked him off hard while biting his shoulder and drawing blood. Kira certainly did want his power back…but was more than happy to have Mello return the favor once he’d recovered the strength in his legs. No fucking though, at least not where Light was concerned, he was still far too sore.

“I suppose focusing would be advantageous to our situation,” Light simpered, his jeans were low, his hair was wet and his shirt was open. Mello pressed a new cup of coffee into Light’s hands and tried to avoid that man-eating gaze. Light immediately shifted the coffee back to the counter and hooked a finger in the tuck of Mello’s towel.

“So are you going to brief me on any updates?” Light purred, cornering Mello against the cabinet, thumb stroking the terry cloth knot, teasingly applying the kind of pressure it would take to slip the towel free. “Or leave to me own devices?” He smiled like butter, held Mello’s gaze for an infinitely long moment and then moved away—taking his coffee and settling nonchalantly on the couch…