And All Things Wrong

BY : L Lawliet
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 1030
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.


He's keeping it in his pants. It's always like this. When they're alone and there is nothing urgent, Near will get pantsless without prior warning, but Rester has learned to anticipate it now. The come-on with an appalling lack of social graces. Those pale, slender legs that lure him more successfully than any woman's ever could. And most of all, those large eyes and that wicked little grin. No for an answer is not an option.

"No... just one finger," Near whispers, and makes that sound again, something between a sigh and a moan, in his eerie little voice, not man, not woman, not child, something in between.

He is on Rester's desk, still in his oversized shirt, and his socks, so his feet won't get cold. His little feet are almost weightless on Rester's broad back. Near's smooth thighs are against Rester's ears, shivering. He's almost there, gasping. Rester no longer checks, but he knows Near's eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling, or at nothing.

The first time Rester found Near on his desk, in the half dark, asking to be touched, he was too shocked to refuse, and the second time he already knew what to do.

If he's too rough, Near will pull his hair and disapprovingly, sternly say, "No."

Rester sucks, and moves his finger, coated in vaseline, inside Near's little ass. Gently, so he won't hurt him. It's part of the job, and since almost all of what they do is off record, no one knows and no one will ever know.

The only one who feels inconvenienced is Rester. He is positive Near can take a second finger, and perhaps more, with enough preparation, if he'd just let him. But Near isn't interested in what is in Rester's pants. He needs to get off once every few days, and maybe he's too prissy to touch himself, Rester never asked why he can't masturbate like a normal boy.

He's shown himself appreciative that Rester swallows, so there's no mess, and Rester is glad that Near is always so clean. They're on his desk after all. And he smells so good, faintly of soap, deceptively innnocent.

For the time being, Rester keeps it in his pants, aware that what he wants, for Near to become so stressed he wants more, demands more, orders more, is perverse.

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