Disciple

BY : wickedpistil
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 2506
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

The blindfold was part of the deal from the beginning. But Kira didn't need to tell him to put it on; he would have done it anyway. Who was he to look upon His perfection? Such presumptions would be heresy. It was a demonstration of his faith that he lay prone on the floor, naked, blind, waiting, praying for just a touch.

And Kira, being a merciful god, delivered, and the nirvana of narrow fingers to his chest sent his senses slithering out of his body. Just a single touch, just those few points of minimal contact made him become a man possessed, straining for the discipline that he had practiced all his life.

"Quiet."

Mikami closed his gasping mouth, begging for punishment for his sins.

Three fingertips began to slide down his sternum, over his abdomen, smooth and warm like communion wine. Mikami strained upward and offered the bread of his body. The sharp nails that pierced his skin felt too good to be any sort of atonement, so Mikami bit his tongue until blood trickled slow down his throat.

"You've done well."

Mikami felt breath warm and humid on his neck, then his shoulder, the crook of his elbow.

"How should I reward you?"

He fought against the whimper tearing out of his body like a demon exorcised.

"I deserve no reward."

The chuckle was cold and the ice felt good. "Nonsense. You have judged well. Your god is pleased."

"Please, God." It fell from his mouth a mantra, and a sweat broke out on his body as teeth grazed his hipbone.

"Is that what you want? Or this," He asked, a tongue sliding into coarse, dark curls, a chin bumping against a throbbing erection.

"Please..."

"Yes?"

"I just want to judge. I don't deserve this."

It was rapture when the lips of his god closed tight around his length. He brought his hands to his face, steepled them over his nose, and cried out. He assured himself of divine plans and infallibility, but he had done nothing to deserve this reward. He had done nothing exceptional in service to his Lord. But it was hard to deny the pleasure, the pain, of that hot, lapping tongue demanding zealous devotion.

Mikami lifted a hand to rest on Kira's head, but felt it slapped away. Of course that was asking too much. Avarice was a sin and he dug his nails into his palms. Blood formed in deep half-moons, his stigmata staining the carpet.

"Mikami..."

He heard his name and felt suddenly meek and humbled.

"Mikami, don't hurt yourself."

Why was his god asking this? He felt instant remorse for questioning. His god was far too kind. It was blasphemy to think these thoughts, he knew, but he didn't understand. Kira - God - stood for atonement and absolution and judgement of sins. Should His servants not be held to the same standards? Kira was righteous and if they were not striving for imitation, what was the purpose of their existence?

"Do you want to bleed?"

Mikami managed a weak nod.

"I won't do that."

Mikami whimpered and arched his back as he felt suction around his cock.

"I won't do that to those who are faithful."

Mikami's mouth fell open at the praise, an urgent panting descending from his tongue. He felt Kira's hands slip behind his knees and scoop them up, rolling Mikami onto his side, then his knees. Mikami let his head hang loose from his shoulders, hair brushing against his cheekbones, waiting to feel Kira against his back, breathing hot and humid on his neck.

Instead, he was rewarded with a chill laugh.

"God," he whimpered, "take it."

He could hear the smirk in his God's voice. "And what would that prove? I know you're loyal, Mikami."

Mikami felt sharp nails scratch down his back, sliding slickly along the sweat, down his hip, and around to skirt up his erection.

"I want something else."

"Anything."

"Will you do what I ask?"

A frantic nod shook Mikami's head, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair, running down his nose, his cheek, his chin. "Yes. Anything."

"Mm. Very good."

Mikami couldn't see, but he could feel everything that was happening in the electric, pulsing air around him. He felt the coolness of a breeze as Kira rose and moved in front of him. The hot tongue moving up his chest was fire and brimstone and he knelt at the pulpit finally as the smoothness of Kira's back slid into place against his chest.

The back was narrower, probably younger than he'd imagined. He was sure it was beautiful. Perfect. Creation.

Kira pressed back against him and it was so clear what He wanted, what needed to be done. It was wrong and obscene and Mikami shivered at the chills it sent through his body. He felt Kira cool against his heated body and a small begging sound escaped from his lips.

"Do you understand?" Mikami felt the vibration of speech rumble along Kira's spine.

Mikami faltered. "I...I can't."

"You can," Kira purred, "you will. Because I ask it of you."

"God..."

"Must I find another servant? You've been so loyal, Teru."

And Mikami moved his hand and touched God.

It was good. Delicious and forbidden and wrong and he'd wanted it so much.

But Kira pulled away. "Not your hands," and it was a command.

"But, the pa-"

"Just do it, Teru. Who do you serve?"

A ragged breath wracked his body and he pushed forward. The resistance was strong and Mikami knew that it must hurt, but this was his mission, his creed, and he sank into heaven.

Aside the from the heat surrounding him, Mikami would have sworn from Kira's silence and stoicism that Kira wasn't there, that it was another dream, another thing for which to atone the next day. But it was hot and tight around his length and his hands rested on narrow, smooth hips. God was real.

Not that he'd doubted. He'd always believed, hoped, known that he was right. He'd known that he would be found and heard and saved. And he would be a loyal servant.

On his knees, worshipping, giving of himself to his Lord.

"Teru. Move."

And so he did as he was bade.

The friction and the pressure would have driven him mad on their own, but it was the slight rocking of Kira's hips that sent his mind tumbling into ether. Mikami let his hips slide forward, curving his spine to touch his chest to his god's back. Kira pushed back with command and quickened the pace until Mikami was gasping and panting, his forehead resting sweaty and slick on Kira's spine.

He sees nothing but black, blind faith pulling him into the rhythm, but, god, he can feel and it's making every hair on his body stand on end. Their hips moved in opposition, coming apart and coming together, driving Mikami closer to deliverance until his back arched, his voice cracked in the dark, and a prayer fell from his lips.

Mikami has barely relaxed against Kira's back, barely let his breath slow to a less frantic pace, hadn't even had time to remove the tension holding his thigh's against Kira's, when the man in front of him was standing and pushing him away.

Mikami folded onto the floor, sweat sticking to hardwood, and he heard Kira cloak His flesh in clothing. He picked out the sound of a tie being snugged into place and Kira cleared His throat.

"Don't ever do that again. Not for anyone else."

The command was cold and hard and law. The door clicked as Kira left him, Mikami bent over his knees on the floor. The disciple lit a cigarette, left the blindfold. The darkness felt safe


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