Dirty King

Chapter One

“” For spoken words
‘’ For thoughts or emphasis

This is the first in a new multi-chapter fiction that quite literally invaded my mind and held it hostage until I could write out a plot outline for it. The main characters are Mihael Keehl and Mail Jeevas, but will include Original Characters and a few in from the canon series.
The perspective will alter between chapters just because I thought it would have a much smoother flow to it. It is an alternate reality, so canon events have never occurred. Light Imagay or Misa Amane do not exist in this fiction.
I do not own Death Note or their characters. I only own this story and the right to create it how I see fit.

Chapter Warning(s): Solo Male action (Masturbation, Fingering, Auto Fellatio)

Mihael

August 26th, 2010
4:26 PM

Leather clad fingers were typing at a determined pace, the small rosary on the right wrist colliding with the keyboard at irregular intervals. The blonde’s eyes were focused on the screen and his breath was silent as he finished up his most recent report on a case he’d closed 3 days ago. Mihael Keehl, aged 25 was a young detective, one of the youngest that LA’s finest had employed in recent history. What he lacked in age, he more than made up for in his intelligence and ability to solve all of his cases in less than a month. This case file was for one of the more well known underground higher ups named Johannes Harder, a German. He’d been doing drug trafficking between groups for months and had even killed off several innocents in gunfights or hostage situations. Mihael had spent 20 days gathering evidence, going undercover for half of those days. Two days after he’d gathered everything he needed, he and a handful of law enforcement agents stormed in on him while he was solo in his office and apprehended him. He’d then spent 3 days interrogating Johannes, slapping his findings in his face and questioning him until his face was red. If there was one thing that could be said about Mihael’s interrogation sessions is that he was fucking scary. His eyes could burn into his suspect’s souls and rip them apart piece by piece. He could make he worst of the worst transform into nothing more than a sobbing form on the ground when he was finished.

“Keehl, do you have your report completed for me?” Lieutenant Connors approached the blonde, who’d finally detached his eyes from the screen long enough to look at his superior.
“Of course Lieutenant, I just need to print it off…” he moves the little arrow on screen to the print button and clicked, “like so. This one could have been a little more entertaining, but I’m not complaining, not at all.” His superior regarded him for a moment before moving to let the blonde get to the printing machine. His boots clicked in timed succession, his general mannerisms indicated he was confident in his skills and himself. He retrieved his report papers, signed them and handed them to the Lieutenant with a smile. When his superior took his leave, Mihael returned to his seat and began to do a final overview of the man he’d put away for several years:
-Johannes Harder is a child of mixed heritage, born to Karl Harder and Ursula Petrovic.
-Attended Elementary school, but never went to high school.
-Parents had died in an automobile accident when he was 10, which explains the lack of education.
-Relatives took him in, but never had him admitted into an educational facility.
-Somewhere down the line, he’d gotten himself involved with illegal substances.
-Spent a few years in a juvenile detention facility where he killed his first man.
-Was admitted into a Zuchthaus for a number of months before his release in 1965
-Emigrated to America by illegal means in 1985, but was never caught and deported.
-Began his crime ring in 1992 and had been steadily earning a reputation.
-Hired hit men to deal with some rival underground groups.
-Was investigated from July 30th 2010-August 20th 2010
-Apprehended on August 22nd 2010
-Interrogated on August 23rd 2010 and August 24th 2010 where confessions were eventually made. Send into confinement same day
-Currently awaiting trial.

Mihael leaned back into his seat a little more heavily, letting out a loud slow breath, his left fist clenching and unclenching slowly. That sounded so close to how he was brought up. Mihael was also of German/Russian descent, his father was unknown to him, making him a bastard in technical terms. His mother, Marta Keehl was his only connection to his entire family, though he never had he chance to ever meet or know them. He was only 7 years old when fate told a drunk man behind the wheel of a supply truck to swerve into his mother’s vehicle, sending it into a ditch where it flipped multiple times before coming to rest with the roof against a tree. She’d died instantly, sparing her any pain. The driver got away with a slap on the wrist. Mihael had been in Junior school at the time, waiting for her to pick him up. She was going to bring him to his favorite candy store that day. Instead of her, he’d gotten Child care services who’d taken him away. Spent about a year and a half in foster care until a kind man named Quillish Wammy took him in. Unknown to the young 7 year old, he’d already thought it was normal to have been bumped to Junior High school. Quillish had gotten word of his high intelligence and had taken an immediate liking to him. Of course he’d sympathized with the loss that a young Mihael had been dealing with, but he knew a special child when he saw one.

A knock on the door interrupted him out of his thoughts; he directs his view to the door where the resident Rookie, a young Japanese American named Matsuda had already let himself in, much to the blonde’s annoyance.
“What is it, Matsuda?” asked the blonde, sighing to emphasize his point.
“I have those 3 files that you requested last month. It was hell getting them here.” Mihael got up and took the files from the young law enforcement member, who politely bowed and took his leave. He returns to his seat and slaps the small pile on the desk, studying them before taking the top file, opening it before lazily scanning it over. These ones were from overseas cases that were no doubt costly in their delivery, plenty of red tape to go through at that. He scanned at the name as it came into his awareness, this one was from the Orphanage in Dublin, Ireland: Mail Jeevas.

It was by no means a cold case, but made the request in hopes that one day he could reunite with his old friend. He had been out of his life for 9 years already. He’d actually forgotten what he’d looked like in his youth. The dirty blonde haired, grey-blue eyed youth that stared back at him brought back those memories long stored away. He knew Mail was half Irish and Swedish, but had taken the Swedish side of his heritage entirely. He was obviously his father’s son, but then again, his mother did not hold any of the traditional traits by the photo he was currently holding. His mother had reddish brown hair and hazel eyes. From what he read in the case file, Mail’s parents were dealing in some illegal matters and were eventually killed when some hit men entered their home and murdered them in front of him. Thankfully there was a witness who’d called the local law enforcement who saw the young boy and promptly removed him from the scene and made arrangements for him to be moved into an orphanage if no relatives were able to identify him. He was only 4 at the time; 4 years old and having witnessed the death of his parents. That said something about why the fellow blonde haired youth had issues seeing pictures of anything that had died.

He put it away and opened the next one, this one straight from Wammy’s House. The single photo was still primarily in their possession, but fellow Wammy alumni Linda Nichols was kind enough to send a sketch of his former friend. His hair was always short, but had allowed some bangs to appear when he’d been admitted into the institution. This was the style he’d known him years for having. He’d never changed its style. He had also taken up video games like a pro in his second year in. It was his drug until cigarettes were briefly introduced then stopped. Not long after he’d quit smoking, he up and left him in the dust. Never gave a reason, just disappeared from the radar briefly until he’d been sent into a Juvenile detention facility, earning him the last photo. He’d grown out his hair a little bit, but it was still short and had darkened into a dirty blonde. The photo showed him with a black eye and a scowl. He’d refused to look directly into the camera, the multiple photographs were proof of his tenacity. Mihael actually smiled at that, noticing that he looked pretty hot for a teen that was beat up. He shook his head of even exercising the thought.

Another knock on the door shook him from his thoughts again, he glared at the door, his gaze softening when he saw that it was his boss. Discreetly, he placed the 3 files into his desk and locked them away.
“Keehl, it’s about time you called it a day. I appreciate your excellent work as always, but you cannot expect to keep up this pace. You’ve just solved another case and your report was top notch as always. Go home and get some rest, you’ve earned it.” Mihael nodded and began to clean his area as soon as his boss left. He removed his shades from their confines and puts them on. Something did not feel right, he dug around a bit more and freed a chocolate bar, unwrapping the foil before taking a much welcomed bite into chocolate-y goodness, sighing in contentment. He strode confidently across the cubicles, oblivious to the other personnel, all his focus and attention currently on getting to his speed bike stored in the headquarters’ garage. He digs his keys out of his pocket and mounts the bike, placing the keys in the ignition and starting the engine. It purrs to life, he releases the clutch and puts the kickstand up drives it up to the garage door, whistling loudly to signal the guard at the door to let him out. When he has enough clearance, he drives out at a much comfortable pace, comfortable to him being a little faster than what was considered legal, but he did not exploit his rights as a cop to get a speed rush, he reserves the right to the speedway once a month to let out his inner speed demon.

With all the calm and poise of a leather clad law enforcer on a speed bike, he weaves his way through the traffic, the route to his home that he shares with his now and again lover Lucas White permanently etched into his memory. It would take him around 20 minutes, mostly because he’d make frequent stops to his favorite coffee house to flirt and order his cocoa coffee that the owner prepared especially, hence the flirting. He shook his head and directed his path to the coffee house, determined to see who was there and who looked available. He had this little game he played internally. He’d often pick out other guys at random and do an analysis of their personality based on their body language. From that, he’d determine if anyone, more specifically, he could ever bring them to his home for a one night stand. More often than not, no one was worth it, that was until Lucas White. He was a lucky shot and he’s one person that he was not planning on giving up anytime soon. Mihael was not an entirely possessive person, deciding to have their relationship as an open one, hence their status as now and again lovers. He did get a little worried for his part time lover and would call him when his gut told him it was a good time to do so, which was usually about right. His years honing his instinctive and observatory skills at Wammy’s had done him good. Not that applying them to scoping out prospective one-timers was ever on the docket.

He pulled into a parking spot out of the coffee house, removing his helmet and giving the golden locks a shake, then pulled out his comb and pocket mirror and gave his hair the once through before putting away his grooming tools; he was cool, calm, collected and fucking hot and he knew it, heavy emphasis on fucking. He placed the kickstand down and dismounted the bike before walking across the street with helmet and minor possessions in tow. He entered through the main doors which surprising were not at the front, but rather at the side in the alleyway. The moment he entered the building, several pairs of eyes locked onto him and scanned him down, the regulars glancing and returning to their business. Already, Mihael’s little game was in play; he spotted a brunette neo hippy with long braided hair that was sipping chai tea. He looked like he was enjoying himself, but was not interested in him at all, his lack of attention to his person indicated he was straight. ‘Not going to happen anytime soon’ he thought to himself, ‘scratch that. Not going to happen ever.’ He then spotted a couple who did not look like they wanted to be there. The more dominant of the pair, the more collected looking of them was glancing away from his partner, fingers tapping wood in a random pattern. The submissive was trying to salvage the situation with some gentle caresses that were not acknowledged or returned. Mihael almost felt bad for him, but he saw soon after, the submissive was incredibly needy and unnecessarily clingy. Not his type, then again, neither was the douche bag that he was with.

He sauntered over to the counter and knocked on the counter, getting the attention of the owner of the facility. Mihael flashed his brightest smile when the owner made eye contact, who returned the pearly grin with his own.
“Well hey there handsome,” started the owner, handing him a lemon wedge, the blonde taking it before placing it into his mouth and sucking out the juices, getting the same reaction of utter disbelief and a sour face. Mihael only grinned and handed him back the wedge before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a quick kiss, letting the juices invade the other’s mouth. The owner reacted with an enhanced sour face, but swallowed the combined fluids like a pro.
“I’ve missed you, Lucas. How have things been going?” He let his part-time lover/coffee house owner tend to his order without having made the request to do so. There was a period of comfortable silence until Jacob returned with his cocoa coffee, this time with a cinnamon stick and marshmallows mixed in. The blonde took it with a cheeky grin.
“I’ve been doing good. Business is good, but always better when you show up. So how is work going for you, hun?” Mihael took a long sip of his coco confection and let out a breathy moan of satisfaction as the heated fluid invaded his throat.
“Just handed in my report for the Harder case. I was let go early today, so I’d thought I’d stop by and see how you were holding up. This is amazing by the way; you really know how to spoil me.” His part-time lover only smiled before attending to another customer, the blonde taking the time to look this one over.

This was a single person, no doubt from what how he was dressed; he just screamed ‘bachelor’, but what kind? His eyes were well blocked by goggles, and the other did not acknowledge his existence, his eyes focused on another area of the coffee house. He wore a hooded sweater and blue jeans that did well to mask his thin form. The mysterious customer did not speak any words, only take his abnormally large order of coffee cans and take his leave. Mihael followed him out with his eyes then turned to his part-time lover with a look of questioning, his right eye going slightly larger than the left. Lucas only shook his head with a frown.
“Sorry love, but I couldn’t tell you if I knew. Truth is, I don’t see him come in here often. Once every 2 months he shows up, always for the same coffee brand and always with cash.” Mihael’s eyebrow raised a little at that. ‘Not suspicious’ he told himself, ‘just an irregular guest.’
“I know what you’re thinking hun. I assure you its always the same thing with him. So,” his part-time lover decided to re-direct the conversation, “did you see anyone here you’d like to take to bed tonight?” Mihael grinned that cheeky grin and leaned over the counter to grab Lucas and pull him into another kiss.
“Only one person for me this night, if he will let me have him, or the other way around if that is what he’s in the mood for.”
“Sorry hun, but I’ve got another arrangement this evening. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.” Mihael put on his best sad puppy expression, sparkly eyes included.
“Ah well, other than you, I suppose there is no one else but myself. I have to confess, I’m a rather good solo fuck if I do so say myself.” Lucas placed his hand on the blonde’s mouth and shushed him.
“Not in here, babe. You know how some people are around the topic of you-know-what?”

Mihael grinned his brightest grin and finished his coffee. He stood up and stole one last kiss from his lover before turning to leave.
“Will I see you home tonight?” Asked the blonde.
“Probably not, but no worries, I will see you first thing in the morning before you head to work.”
“You’d better. Take care and have yourself an awesome evening.”
“You too, hun.” Mihael left the coffee shop and grit his jaw. It was not the evening he’d planned out, but he was willing to make a compromise. He walked back to his motorbike and mounted it, placing on his helmet and keyed the engine. He moved the kickstand out of the way and began his trek home. He parked the bike in his garage when he’d gotten to his home and walked into the medium sized living space. It contained 2 bedrooms, a single bathroom and a basement suite. The basement suite had been converted into an office space where he conducts little ‘pet projects’ of finding out information on random people he’s encountered or to continue his search for his friend Mail. He also used the space for hiding several ‘toys’ for solo play or when he takes a lover to the spare bedroom, that was the original use ever since he and Lucas got the place. Only the shared bedroom was reserved for just he and his part-time lover. There was a medium kitchen in which the duo had created various meals together and solo. Finally there was the underused living room; it had only ever been used by the pair a total of 25 times in the 3 years they’ve been living there.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it haphazardly to the neglected couch and went into the shared bedroom and flopped onto the large bed, no intention of doing anything at the moment. He let his right hand trail lazily against the black textured vest, going up at a casual pace to the zipper ring, playing with it for a moment before letting it go and trail back down to play with the lower hem of the vest. Pale fingers tickled a bare abdomen and he shuddered at the sensation, grinning lazily as he did so. He allowed himself this teasing for some time, allowing himself feel aroused at a very slow pace, though never making any move to touch himself below the pants. He trailed his left hand upwards and pulled on the zipper ring, freeing a little more skin from its confines. When his skin was exposed to the air, he brought the hand that exposed the skin to a nipple and pinched it between leather clad fingers, hissing and shuddering. This obviously aroused the blonde man, his darker pink nipple hardened. Mihael repeated the treatment with the other nipple, arching into his own caresses and letting out a soft whimper. He removed a glove from his right hand with his teeth and tossed the black hide away before sliding 2 pale digits into his mouth and sucked on him, using his tongue to swirl and further lubricate the fingers. As he sucked, he began to imagine that the fingers were not fingers, but the hard fleshy shaft of his part-time lover. He doubled his efforts on the fingers, moaning around them and opened his mouth and removed them, a faint trail of saliva following them.

His hand went to the hem of his pants and he lifted his hips and pulled the leathers to passed his thighs, cooling heated skin and freeing his semi-erect member. He rolled over and got into a squatting position on his knees and pulled the pants completely off. He used the same hand that removed his pants to brace himself against the edge of the bed, his frame leaning forwards. He put his other hand back into his mouth for one last bit of lubrication before leaning back, using the digits to tease his entrance before edging in, the saliva taking away the burn he would have otherwise felt. He pushed his fingers in as far as they could go in and he started to thrust his fingers in and out, stretching out his hole a little bit and raking his insides. This sent pleasurable sensations up and down his spine and he moaned softly, bucking into his thrusts. He jolted when his fingers brushed against his prostate and he let out a loud moan at that. He continued to thrust his fingers into himself, catching his prostate a couple more times before he decided to try his favorite activity to perform upon himself. He grabbed his erection and pumped himself a few times to full hardness and then moved to the floor and walked to a nearby wall. Getting into a sitting position and using the wall as a brace, he strokes himself, gathering pre-cum and lubricating himself, breath ragged, but otherwise controlled. He teased his balls, massaging them and letting his body react in kind to the treatment. He then removed his hand and started to lean forward.

He licked the tip of his erection and shuddered, his own taste heightening his arousal. He leaned forward more and took the entire first quarter of his erection into his mouth and started to bob up and down, moaning around his member, licking and swallowing the pre-cum as it gathered. He could not keep this pace up long and soon came up for air, breath heavy and body flustered and glowing with arousal. As soon as his breath had calmed down, he went back and took his member back into his mouth, bobbing gently and sucking with fervor. He then used his right hand to tease his nipples, alternating between each one and pinching and rubbing. He rose up for more air, gasping and shaking a little, getting close to orgasm. He rose shakily and returned to the bed, collapsing onto it then began to pump himself slowly, arching, writhing and moaning out his lover’s name with several words that could have been cursing, but he did not know or care; having lost himself completely in his actions long ago. He rolled over and bracing himself on the bed, he started to thrust into his hand, his breath ragged and body flush with sweat, his blonde locks sticking to his face. It was not long after that he bucked and ejaculated hard, straining and leaving him almost sobbing and gasping. He fell to his side and milked himself to completion, gasping and shuddering. He gathered some of his fluids and brought that to his mouth and licked his essence off, sighing in satisfaction. He let himself become very lax, very much sated and feeling tired and sensitive.

His stomach began to protest and growl some time later and Mihael groaned, not wanting to get up, but hunger was winning over in the end. Before doing that, he needed a shower. He got off the bed and stretched, groaning and let a lazy smile play on his face. He dug out a loose cotton shirt and cotton pants and strolled into the bathroom and turned on the water, letting the temperature rise to a comfortable level before entering the stall and grabbing the soap bar and proceed to clean himself slowly, but thoroughly. He washed his hair at the same lazy pace, but meticulous all the same. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel in the small closet and dried himself off before dressing and finally walking calmly into the kitchen. He glanced at the clock, the time showing that it was 6:12 PM, still early, but that meant that Lucas had already closed shop and was with his newest hook-up. He considered calling him, but decided against it. He put a pot of water on to boil, deciding to cook a quick stir fry, saving the other half for his part-time lover. He was going to wait until later to get the vegetables out, the fresher, the better. He opened the freezer and pulled out frozen chicken breasts that he’d pre-wrapped and stored for days like these. He ran the cold water and set them in there to thaw out. Seeing as how he should have done that a long time ago, he goes to the pot on the stove and turns off the heat and moves the pot to a cooler burner. He goes into his bedroom and pulls off the soiled sheets and blankets and brings those to the laundry room which was also in the basement. He sets the dial to the settings he preferred for the materials and put in the soap then started the washing machine, inserting the dirty sheets first. Seeing as how the chicken and sheets would take some time, Mihael directs his path to his office. He takes the computer off of sleep mode and logs himself in, a screensaver of a Gothic ‘M’ illuminating the screen. There were few icons on this screen, one link would connect him to the Wammy House communication line. Another icon opens up the police database for records on any new or updating criminal activity as it comes in. This he clicked open and began to browse, scanning for aliases that were updated in the last few weeks. Nothing new came to his attention, a lot of the alias changes were from small time criminals.

As he browsed, the Wammy’s House line opened up in front of him, a message presented itself, blunt as per the person who sent it:
+ How goes the search for M2?
Mihael frowned then let his fingers type out his response:
= He does not want to be found, though I cannot fathom why.
+ M, there are things that we cannot understand in this lifetime. Believe me when I tell you that there were times when even I’ve been stumped by something that I do not understand. These are the trials and errors that even the best of us face.
= I understand L, but that does not stop me from worrying about his well-being.
+ You were always the determined one, and I accredit you for your strong will. In your own right, you are a better man than I.
= I should feel honored, but I am afraid I will reserve that right until I have found him.
+ I suppose you are right M. If there is one thing worthy of some praise is your loyalty to him. I understand that you were confused when he left the institution, but think of it from his side. Perhaps he thought that the life that I’d been shaping for you and the rest of the students was not in his cards. There are always underlying issues. That is entirely up to you to find out what they were. Perhaps it would be in your best interest not to look into that. It is his life after all, and you no longer have a place in it.
= Understood.

The window promptly closed and Mihael closed his eyes, letting his mentor’s words sink in. What if L was right and Mail was just not cut out for the life of detective work? He did remember that the dirty blonde haired youth was always distant and annoyed from class to class, no matter how encouraging he’d tried to be. The portable games had been his one vice on his sanity there. Had he ever talked to him about leaving? He could not recall; if he had, he’d not paid any attention. That alone made him think that perhaps his studies had taken him away from his one close friend. Regrettable, yes it was, but he would have never ended up here if he didn’t. The sound of the sheets in the first spin cycle freed him from his thoughts, and he logged out of that account and shutting the screen off. He drags himself back to the kitchen, mind filled with the brief chat occurred. He notes that the chicken is almost ready to be cooked. He returns the pot to the burner and turns it to half heat. He returns to the office and logs into his other account, which was no different than his Wammy’s House account, only with more police reports and the internet. He opened one of his oldest case files; it was a sentimental thing for him to hold onto his first everything. He had a box that contained his first gift he’d gotten from his mother that stood the test of time. It was a wrapper of a local brand of chocolate that she’d purchased him for being a good boy that week. His first toy was a simple wooden robot that his now deceased uncle had given him as a way of greeting and bonding. Many other knick-knacks and things he’d accumulated in that one box, all of them holding great emotional memories for him. He’d even kept the first present he’d gotten from Mail, it was a card with some weird looking green turtles and saying only, “Have a Radical Holiday Season, Mail.”
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A/N: I had to re-post this story, the editing was becoming extremely difficult with me. I will update this at odd intervals. I will eventually answer the question as to why Mail has dirty blonde hair and why I am using their real names. I have another story on FF.net that I am trying to complete as well. My apologies to those who have already viewed this. I just wanted to post some edited material from before, but AFF was not letting me.
Edit: Decided to change the gap from 5 years to 9 years. Makes a little more sense now that I think on it.