BY : hColleen
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 1625
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.

There were many things that Near was. A great many things. Genius by way of understatement, overachiever by comparison to his age group. He was also albino and ill adapted to working with others. Neither of those mattered to his goal, though.

His goal was simple. To become better than the best detective in the world.

And there was really only one obstacle. The blond haired, leather clad, scarred, chocolate-eating annoyance that barged into his room. At least Mello had the courtesy not to knock over his house of cards.

“I already told you,” he started, annoyed at having to repeat himself.

“That you will not share information with me. This is a competition to see which of us is the best replacement for L and as such, I have to come up with the information myself,” Mello cut him off. “I heard you the first time, Near, and I am not one of your SPK goons that you need to repeat things to me.” Mello took a step around the cards, somehow moving carefully enough, even in his oversized, fur-edged great coat, not to disturb the cards. “What I am saying is that you are preventing me from getting information that you have free access to and blocking my access to any other information, as well.”

“And?” Near asked quietly, turning back to his cards.

Mello pulled the chair Near was seated on away from the card building on the table. He turned it, putting his hands on the arms of the chair. “You are actively preventing me from competing, Near.”

Near still managed to look away from him, one hand coming up to play with his hair. “Not that it’s working. You found this place.” He knew, though, that he’d effectively blocked most of Mello’s sources of information. Why had he missed this one?

“I think you wanted me to find it,” Mello growled. “I think you wanted me to find you.”

“No,” Near’s voice was soft.

Mello grabbed Near’s chin, turning it until they were nose to nose. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Reluctantly, Near’s eyes went to Mello’s. “What?” he demanded weakly.

Mello tilted his head and brought his lips closer to Near’s. “What?” he echoed. “I think we both know what,” he replied, his lips brushing Near’s with each word. And then he closed the distance between them. His eyes remained open, though, peering into Near’s, making sure he didn’t turn away.

After a moment, Mello slipped his tongue into Near’s mouth. Near’s eyes drifted shut as pink tinted his pale cheeks. Mello continued to press until Near’s tongue slid along his and small noises of pleasure fill their mouths. Slowly, Mello drew back.

Near’s eyes were still closed when he whispered, “No.” They both know it’s for show, that he doesn’t mean it.

Mello kissed him again, his arms reaching to pull Near off his chair and onto the floor. Somehow, still, the card table was immune to their movements, though Mello’s feet were dangerously close to it.

Near struggled, not to writhe, to push Mello away, in vain, a faux attempt at soothing his ego. Later, he could say he fought, but because he is not as active as Mello, he lost. They would all know it for what it is, but it would be there, none the less.

Mello’s coat was tossed aside, revealing bare arms, one scarred, the skin tough, almost as leathery as the coat he just discarded, the other smooth, silky. Near dragged his hands along both of them, favoring neither. Both of them, together, formed the one above him. To deny one would be to deny what he wanted, what he’d never admit he wants.

Mello’s hands, encased in a second skin of black leather, undid the buttons of Near’s white cotton pyjamas. Each button unfastened, one at a time, then the revealed skin teased, traced before the next button is opened. His mouth continued to press into Near’s, forcing his head back to the floor.

Feeble protests became gentle encouragements. Near’s hands slid under Mello’s crucifix and up to pull down the zipper that held the vest closed. He was ‘caught up in the moment,’ if ever anyone asked. But, no one would. Near drew his palms up Mello’s body, enjoying the contrast in textures as the burn scars started at his waist and covered half his chest.

When Mello finished unbuttoning Near’s top, he let himself settle on the pale chest. Near tried to gasp in their kiss, a soft moan filling his throat. Mello’s lips slowly trailed a path to Near’s neck.

“No, don’t,” Near breathed. “Don’t…stop…please.” Though each word was said on its own breath, leaving one to believe they were separate, they were meant to be together. Still careful, still deliberate.

Mello smirked. Even as Near protested, he was drawn closer, pulled down, by the hands that now caressed his back. When he pushed down the pyjama pants, Near’s hips lifted to help even as his mouth protested. A whimper of need escaped when Mello pushed himself off Near’s body. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Near’s eyes didn’t hesitate this time. They fixed on Mello’s body, watching his hands as they pulled the vest off and cast it aside. The belt was deliberately slower, the buckle undone with deliberate care, the excess drawn through inch by inch until it was free. Then Mello pulled the belt out of his pants, dragging it, watching Near’s eyes widen in anticipation of the next opening.

Leather pants didn’t conceal much. The laces were pulled tight against the bulge of his erection. Mello caressed the flesh, watching as Near squirmed between his knees. Pale skin was flushed pink with arousal. His erection stood out, even redder against the milkiness of his belly. A smirk of possession curled Mello’s lips as he teased himself, rubbing gently over the laces before teasing the knot at the top.

Near’s hands itched to touch, but the pretense, the show they were putting on, forced him to keep his hands by his sides. His eyes burned with hunger, his lips moist, parted, waiting. He fought back a groan when Mello pulled one lace free of its bow and then the other. He couldn’t stop the gasping moan when the knot came undone and the leather began to gap.

Mello teased his audience, slowly loosening each bit of lacing, dragging out the anticipation, the revelation until he was sure that Near would reach up and help him open the closure. He saw Near’s hands move slightly upwards before they tried to grip the floor. Mello could feel his gloves brushing against the hardness of his erection between the gaps in the leather. Before he was finished, though, Mello bent over and kissed Near again. He traced a quick trail down Near’s body toward the temptingly red flesh.

Near’s breathed in soft little mewls of need. His whole body arched and a cry escaped him as Mello drew his erection in, sucking it like some fine, rich chocolate. Near could feel himself melting, his remaining resistance crumbling. His hands moved to clench themselves in Mello’s hair. He wanted Mello to show him death for a moment. But Mello pulled away before that moment.

Somehow, Mello was between his upraised legs. Near didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember Mello moving, but Mello’s face was above his. Before he can breathe out a semblance of protest, a heartfelt groan filled the space between them as Mello’s erection filled his body. The motion was slow at first, but as Near lost the ability to stay silent and begins to beg, Mello’s thrusts grew harder and faster. Near was taken to the dizzying edge of completion, hovering there, waiting, wanting, needing.

Light pierces his eyelids. Near blinks, frowning at the intrusion. His body aches with hardness, with the remembered feel of something that never happened. Mello was dead. It’d been years, and yet the dreams still came when he gave himself a chance to sleep enough to dream. If he remained still, the embarrassing erection would ease before anyone else could notice. He closes his eyes, wishing once more he had taken the chance when he had it.

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