Dirty Talk

BY : NothingsXSorrow
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 1259
Disclaimer: :I do not own Death Note or its characters, nor do I profit from these writings Layla was created by I.M. Elizabeth and is used with their permission.



Authors Note: Just a little oneshot I did for I.M. Elizabeth on ffnet

Warnings:I suggest that if you are not the legal age to be reading mature content or if the content within this is something that bothers you that you proceed no further and just hit the back button. Now for those brave (and old) enough to continue this contains sexual situations involving Mello and a female OC(not mine) naughty Russian and mature themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or its characters, nor do I profit from these writings

Layla was created by I.M. Elizabeth and is used with their permission.

Two people were kind enough to lend their help with the Russian in this fic. I would like to extend my thanks to them. (you know who you are -winks-)



Dirty Talk


Layla had begged him to bring her to the hideout, a place where her first visit had resulted in a facial scar marring her face and a bullet in an underlings head. Mello, who found it difficult sometimes not to indulge his little kiska had conceded. He did his best to keep her relaxed, afraid that her tenseness around the others would have them circling like a pack of rabid animals waiting to pounce for the kill. After the briefest of introductions followed by polite talk he retreated, a hand on her back to as he led her down the musty corridor to the room that served as his private quarters while he was here.

Bolting the door behind them, he tried to ignore her unease as she surveyed the room, bare save for a bed and a battered dresser. The way her eyes nervously kept drifting back to the unmade bed, and the subtle change in her posture; her shoulders tense, head dropping to examine the cold concrete of the floor, made him wonder if she was mulling over the fact that she had not been the only he had fucked. Was she wondering if he had taken others in here, fucking them? Ignoring the urge to ask her, he flipped the switch to the small stereo on the dresser and wrapped his arms around her.

Under Mello's expert lead they swayed slightly, hips touching as hands softly explored cotton and leather clad skin. Layla sighed softly as her shirt was removed, inch by inch of heated skin exposed to the chill of the air. He molded his hands to her womanly curves, cupping her breast, a thumb brushing hardened nipple through the black silk and lace fabric of her bra.

With skill borne of practice , nimble fingers made easy work of removing the offending material that separated the calloused flesh of fingers and palm from the softness he ached to touch. Chest bared, Layla pressed against the cool leather of Mello's vest, a single movement that betrayed both her need to be close and the lingering modesty that would on occasion surface when they were together.

He was her first and her only, and although others may chanced to hear the impassioned sounds of when they were together, he alone had looked upon her in the throes ecstasy.

Warm hands slid to caress the exposed chilled flesh of her back, a finger tracing over the half moon birthmark on her shoulder before slipping down to her hips to guide Layla closer. He moved against her, grinding, eliciting a soft gasp from her as she felt his hardness.

Mello leaned down kissing her with brutal force, tongue tangling with hers as a finger glided along the elastic of her panties before dipping under. She moaned into the kiss, shivering not so much from the cold air as the heat from those skilled fingers . The way the rough pads of finger tips just grazed along the flesh, exploring lower, seeking out the area that ached for his touch.

She broke the kiss,“Mihael.” His real name spoken in such a tone that it was hardly a whisper. His touch became bolder, rougher urged on by the fact that her lips and tongue were currently attacking the sensitive area scarred tissue met unblemished skin on his shoulder.

A feral growl formed as he encountered her wetness, slender fingers delving deeper into that slickness. The growl deepened as he took notice of her response. The way she pushed up against him, her muscles tightening around his invading fingers, the little hitch to her breathing as she began to move against him. “Layla.” Her own name sounding like a plea as his fingers pushed deeper.

“Yebat! ” The Russian profanity uttered as he felt her delicate fingers pop the button and unzip his leather, reaching inside once opened and encircling his straining erection. Her ignorance as to his mother tongue showed when she pulled back a questioning look on her face. It took mere seconds for the thought to form, and another few seconds for him to act on it.

In the past, they had experimented with dirty talk. Mello guiding her in the sexual play with words that had caused her cheeks to be stained a bright scarlet and left her protesting in her embarrassment. Never fully able to indulge in the fantasy he had just moved on, pushing down the fiery need for such talk. The idea of using his native language never entering that genius mind of his.

“Kiska. I am sorry, English only.” He purred before kissing her again swallowing her moans , his fingers moving inside her again. A shudder went through him, straight to his groin as her hands worked on pushing the leather from his hips. He fought the desire to chuckle, hearing him utter things in Russian being a weak point for her.

Breaking the kiss, she sighed, “No. Speak Russian to me please.”

His other hand reached up a finger hooking through the silver D ring that adorned the front of the leather collar that was around her neck. The collar had been a gift from him, a purchase made on impulse after Layla had stated her desire to experiment with the master/slave fetish he had.

A smile formed as he spoke. “Na koleni, sooka” His other hand resting on her shoulder, gently pressing until she got the hint, and knelt down. His fingers threaded through her hair, guiding her with a gentle patience and a playful grin as to what it was he wanted.

Her lips encircled him, tongue applying just the amount of pressure he liked. He had taught her well, but he was a good teacher and she was always the dutiful student. Glancing down he was rewarded with sight of her eyes, a darker shade of gray with lust and sparkling in adoration as she took more of him, slim fingers working what she could not take. The black leather was a stark contrast to the paleness of her neck, and silently cursed himself for not having the forethought to have attached the leash.

“ Sosi, Sooka .” The Russian words rolling smoothly, a satisfied smirk forming as she moaned around him. Brushing a few strands of brown hair that had fallen into her face, he traced with the slightest graze of his thumb along her scar; pushing away the guilt having been responsible for its origin.

“Ti lyubish vkus moevo hooya.” The familiar tightening feeling alerted him to the fact that he was close, Layla's innocence to the words being spoken adding to his pleasure. As his release neared, he gripped her hair; ever mindful of not hurting her and with a tug on the collar helped her to her feet. “Davaĭ potrahaemsya” He whispered against her lips, pleased with the shiver that the words caused. Words that she had no understanding of.

His fingers trailed down her body, catching the elastic band of her panties, helping her slip them off. Effortlessly, he picked her up, and turning them so that he could use the wall to help steady her, he entered her. Once fully seated he remained still, taking a few moments to gather his control; the slick warm tightness that surrounded him at first threatening to send him over the edge.

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened as if to speak. He placed a finger against her lips to silence her. “pizda zatknis.” Seeing her confusion, he offered a translations; although inaccurate, but still the same sentiment . “shh, silence.”

“But-” Layla stuttered, a hand pushing at his chest halfheartedly.

“Just go with it. Besides,” he nuzzled her ear tenderly “I thought you found it a turn on to hear me speak Russian.” Sucking on the area beneath her jaw induced the reaction he desired. As she quickly gave up speaking in favor of the utterance of a soft moan, and began to move.

It wasn't long before his hands on her hips guided her, taking control of their pace from her. His thrusts were rough, fingers digging into the soft curves of her hips as he slammed into her. It was long long before he felt her muscles tighten in anticipation of release, her head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as her fingers dug painfully into his back.

“Yes, god yes.” She moaned against him. A mixture of nonsense English and Estonian followed, broken only by the wails of his given name.

“Lay-”He groaned almost painfully, her name cut short as hips jerked signally his own release. He waited for a few moments for the after shocks of their orgasms to subside for setting her down on her feet.

Catching her breath and squirming from the unfamiliar feel of his semen leaking, she frowned, a tiny fist smacking at his shoulder. “You forgot protection, asshole.”

Finger the edge of the collar he shrugged, “You should be fine.” Already his mind was going over ideas of other uses for the collar and leash- and a few other toys that he had purchased. So lost in thought was he that he was unaware of Layla stating her intention to look up the words he had spoken to her.


Yebat! - Fuck!

Na koleni, sooka -On your knees, bitch

Sosi, Sooka - suck it bitch

Ti lyubish vkus moevo hooya - You like to taste my dick

Davaĭ potrahaemsya- Lets have sex.

pizda zatknis- cunt, shut up.






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