The Nightly Disease
Fandom: Death Note
Characters: Mello/Near
Genre: Slash, smut, mean Mello
Warnings: Ahahaha let's pretend it's not shota you guys
A/N: Two complicated geniuses and their struggle with puberty. Boys will be boys.
It´s like a natural law. When you´re a boy, and another boy offers to get you off, you don´t say no.
There are no exceptions to this law. It doesn´t matter whether you´re dumb or smart, courageous or timid, loud or quiet, laid back or high maintenance. It doesn´t even matter whether you like the other boy or hate him for several complicated reasons.
It´s a silent and visceral agreement that doesn´t rely on thoughts or affections. It´s the connection between two dots - between guilt-ridden pressure and much needed release. A simple equation. If someone offers you release, you take it.
It´s summer, and it´s hot, and the air refuses to move at all. The heat is choking any trace of breeze, and Mello is spread out on his bed and finds it difficult to sleep.
He almost always does, his body is humming with restless energy. He is a human beehive in that respect. In his mind, he secretly takes it as a compliment, from himself to himself. He´s heard Roger say once that it´s always the complex and intelligent kids that have problems to rest their busy little heads at night, and Mello knows he is the most complex and intelligent of them all. With one exception.
Tonight, it´s not his head that keeps him awake, though. But he chooses not to think about that, because it has nothing to do with being smart.
He´s tried books, but to no avail. He has opened and closed all the drawers on his desk several times, but nothing in there managed to keep his interest. He´s circled his small room a little until it started getting ridiculous. He has tried staring out of the window eating chocolate, but he felt like a lunatic freak after a while. The futility of it all has driven him into bed.
Then, an hour ago, he has kicked off his blanket in frustration. A while later, he took off his shirt. When that didn´t work, he took off the rest. And now he´s spread out, panting and naked, and the heat sticks to his skin, and he knows it´s not going to go away until dawn, and it drives him insane.
And that´s when he hears a creak from the door, and a square of faint light floods over his exposed body, a square of light with an angry small silhouette in it.
“Gah!” Mello is mortified. He struggles to grab something to cover himself with, but he finds nothing. He must have kicked that blanked really hard. All he can find is his black shirt, which he places over himself as strategically as possible, before he looks up again, face flushing with anger and shame.
He hardly finds the time to wonder why he gets a nightly visit from the least likely and least welcome person on earth. Near never visits anyone´s room, ever.
What are you doing here? Would be the obvious question, but Mello is far too naked to think about it right now, instead he stammers: “C-can´t you knock?!”
Like someone who was caught red-handed doing something bad, even if he didn´t. Instead, it´s Near who´s intruding on him in the middle of the night. But it´s Mello who is embarrassed for some reason. It´s not fair.
“Get out!” he manages. “This is not your room!”
Despite of this, Near moves closer. He looks … with a slight twinge of glee, Mello discovers that Near looks like crap. His puffy face is almost comically miserable, he has bags under his eyes, and even his silvery curls look distraught. Mello wants Matt´s digital camera, he wants it bad.
“Sleepwalk somewhere else, you freak”, Mello barks, baring his teeth in a ferocious gesture that is, as always, completely lost on Near.
“You need to stop.” Is the grave reply.
Near´s eyes are very dark and his gaze is hovering on a point somewhere beneath Mello´s face, as usual, carefully avoiding contact. There´s a hint of accusation in his eyes and a trace of irritation in his voice, which, all in all, is more emotion than Mello has seen from him in the entire last year.
Near´s hand whisks a strand of curls from his pale face in what seems to be a rare notion of exaspiration.
“I hear you, you know. You make noises. I can´t sleep. You´ve made noises for hours. You need to stop.”
Mello groans. He knew it had been a bad idea of Roger´s to put them into adjoining rooms all along. Roger seems to have hatched some kind of secret plan, as if they´d become genius super friends by living close to each other. Instead, Mello now has to put up with the prodigy pestering him about his precious sleep.
“Near, I am naked.”
“Yes…”, Near says, as if he didn´t notice it before. And then, for whatever reasons, he shuts the door behind him and slowly starts to stroll towards Mello´s bed.
Mello is embarrassed, and that is the last thing he wishes to feel with Near in his room, and it infuriates him and makes him nervous. He wants to die. No, he wants Near to die. Now.
“Come any closer, and I swear I´ll break your arm!”
It sounds pathetic, and he knows it. He doesn´t exactly feel big and bad at the moment. He is alone in his bed, and he has no clothes on and Near has.
Near stops for a second and blinks. His voice is reprehensive. “I know you´re not that stupid, Mello. I don´t know why you want me to think you are.”
Mello wants to hiss something in protest, but he can´t. Because he knows Near is right. Harming Near would be a defeat, not a victory. It would only land Mello in detention, supervision, or out on the street. It would only be a proof that Mello is indeed foolish, which is why he will never do it.
He can´t do anything but glare, as Near places his impertinent, uninvited little butt on his bed, and continues to stare at that spot next to his face. It´s aggravating. But more than aggravating it´s strange.
“You can´t sleep either,” Near informs him.
Mello snorts. “So you are a genius after all.”
But the scoff isn´t real. Mello doesn´t feel smug at all. He shifts nervously as he feels his body become really aware of their closeness, every muscle of his sleek body is tensing.
Near is so close, and somehow it feels as if the small shirt that covers so little of his body gets magically smaller and smaller. Near seems to be completely unaffected by this. Mello begins to wonder if Near himself has any idea what he is doing here.
“I was thinking”, Near says promptly, his empty stare still missing Mello´s face about a few inches, “I could probably help you with that.”
Mello has no idea what this is supposed to mean, but he laughs it off to be safe. “I´ll never need your help with anything! And since when are you the helpful type anyw...”
Their eyes meet. It´s most likely an accident on Near´s part, he really must be tired, and it´s a bit of a shock, for both of them.
Mello´s face twitches. And then, a moment later - Near´s face twitches, too. Mello almost can´t believe he saw it. It was only a split second, but it was there, a nervous twitch, as if Near has a reason to be embarrassed as well. There´s still no emotion on that pudgy face other than fatigue, but there is no mistake.
And with a rush of sudden unnerving certainty, Mello knows what they are about to do.
There is a unique, unexplainable magic in knowing you´re about to get off together. It´s nothing boys would ever talk about, but´s it´s alluring and scary and irresistible, and it erases everything in its way, shyness, embarrassment, or hate. It´s that powerful.
Near lowers his gaze, and his eyes snap into focus like a lense. They are both very quiet, and Mello´s skin starts to tingle when he realizes that Near is now openly examining him, absorbing every inch of him that he can see, which is a lot. Mello lets him. He figures that it´s easier for Near to look at his body than into his face, which is kinda sad, for Near, but he lets him.
He feels a little chill and wonders if Near has ever looked at him like that before without him noticing it. He can´t quite fathom how Near could be interested in things like these, but he is a boy after all, they both are.
He feels a nervous lurch in his stomach as Near raises a pale, delicate hand towards him.
“What d-“
Mello bites his tongue. Mello can´t ask, because Mello doesn´t want to hear him say it, because if Near said it, it would become real. Mello doesn´t want it to happen, but he does. And then it doesn´t matter, because it´s going to happen anyway, and he will let it.
His mattress shifts a little as the other boy crawls into bed with him. Mello figures that it´s all right, because it´s for practical reasons, right, it´s not like they´re cuddling or anything. His heart is pounding in his chest, and now he can feel that Near is shaking too. His pale round face still doesn´t move, however, every other part of him does.
Mello wants to gasp and bites down on his lip. He must be very, very quite now, he knows, because the slightest disturbance might kill all this now, and Mello doesn´t want that. He is shaking all over, a lot of it is lust, but most of it is panic, because he is scared of what will happen, and he is scared that it won´t. Both seems equally frightening really.
Instead he watches, motionless and mesmerized, how Near´s hand softly crawls across his exposed hips and disappears underneath that small piece of black fabric. The hand doesn´t hesitate a bit, it knows where it wants to go, and Mello doesn´t mind, he doesn´t mind at all.
He doesn´t realize how hard he is until petite, surprisingly warm fingers close around the sensitive flesh and make him squirm in inevitable delight. He has no idea when or how this happened. He feels weak, so ashamed, he wants to scream, and he wants to cry, and he wants it to go on.
The hand playfully, teasingly, feels its way up and down his length. And the fact that it´s Near´s hand almost makes Mello´s head explode. He whimpers and tries to shut it out, but he can´t. He knows these hands. He has observed them, grudgingly glared at them many times, working on cubes and matches and toys with flawless skill, and with a jolt of guilty pleasure, he remembers that Near has gifted hands. And that in this context, it is quite fortunate.
He lets out a soft moan and tries to accept that he will actually benefit from something Near can do, as his hips are trembling against that grip. A little breeze of air hits him as Near gently removes the piece of clothing so he can look. It scares and pleases Mello that Near wants to look. Mello almost doesn´t dare to peek down at what Near is doing, but he tries.
Near has rested his delicate chin on Mello´s leg and looks up to his cock as he plays with it, with the same distant interest as he would look at one of his useless dice constructions. It´s almost comical. Mello would laugh if it wasn´t his cock. Near´s soft curls are brushing Mello´s slim thighs in a way that feels far too good. It occurs to him that his erection must appear enormous from where Near is looking, and he wonders if the other boy is probably impressed, and he gets even harder just thinking about it. His breath is flat and brisk in his chest. He is panting, he realizes, like a dog being crushed by summer heat.
A tantalizing, sweet pang explodes in his aching loins as the hand continues to squeeze him, and Mello decides he can´t bare to look at Near doing this any more. He stares down at him and tries to wrap his mind around the concept of his rival giving him pleasure, but he can´t.
It´s mind-boggling and humiliating, it´s like vertigo, and Mello screws his eyes shut and presses his face into his pillow. He wants to forget that it´s Near, he wants to forget everything but the intense, beautiful pain that he is getting from it. He moans, desperately and longingly, into the unfeeling fabric as he remembers that one of the main attractions of getting off with another boy is guilt.
The other boy is really getting into it now, pressing and releasing him at will, and Mello crushes his heels into his mattress, trying to hold still, to not impatiently grind his hips into the other´s touch, because he doesn´t want to give him that. He tries to maintain a hesitant, soft sway to not give himself away too much, but it´s getting harder and harder to hold back.
Mello hears himself softly cry out into the pillow, grabbing bits of mattress and sheet with his hands. He wants to grab his tormentor instead, claw into white, soft, pallid flesh, but that would remind him of who it is, and he can´t have that, he just can´t.
And then, he suddenly stirs in shock as he feels a pair of lips press a little kiss on to his stomach.
Mello freezes, gasping for air, a cold shiver running down his spine.
It´s against the rules. It has to mean nothing. There can´t be kisses, because kisses are something. It has to mean nothing, or otherwise it doesn´t work, and especially not between them.
“... the hell you think you´re doing?” he mutters into the darkness, his voice strained and hoarse from all the cries he bit down. He realizes that he sounds bashful, and it annoys him. “Y- You can´t do that. It´s not how it w-works.”
There´s no reply, but Near doesn´t try it again. Instead, he intensifies his efforts, and Mello shivers and melts into his touch and almost manages to forget once more. But not quite.
He is aware that it is Near now, and somehow it doesn´t bother him that much. It even fascinates him, as it dawns on him that Near must do this to himself too, as all the other boys do. The touch he applies to Mello, the way he is working him, is much, much too good for it being the first time. Near is good at this. And since Mello doubts that Near has a wank buddy somewhere, it means the he does it to himself at night, like everyone else, and it´s a delicious thought. It means he is just a desperate horny little boy like all of them when the lights go out, and that thought pleases and arouses Mello.
His hips are shaking violently now, and panic numbs him as he realizes how hard he is about to come. What builds inside him is huge, and it scares him, it scares him out of his mind. His body arches upwards and his body becomes one tense, sleek curve, as his muscles contract and all guilt and all pain is washed away.
His mouth tears open for a silent cry, and he dies a little as he comes against the other boy´s soft touch.
The moments after are nothing but daze and humming nerves. Mello wants to think again, but he can´t, because his body is too busy twitching. A lot. All of a sudden, his bed feels soft and inviting, the night feels so much better, and all the energy is drained from him through sweet exhaustion.
The first thing he sees after the dizziness decreases is Near cleanly wiping his hand on his bedsheet. That, of course, means that Mello will have to sleep in that sticky mess, but it´s all right. It´s his after all, and somehow Near taking it with him to his room would feel weird.
He struggles to find his voice, and when he does, he says the only thing that´s appropriate in a moment like this. “Th-thanks.”
It´s the first time he says anything like that to Near. It´s the first time he says anything normal to Near, even if the circumstances aren´t.
After a while, Near replies, in an unusually throaty and shaky voice, “You´re welcome.”
Only now Mello realizes that Near hasn´t spoken through any of it. Maybe he´s just shy, but Mello has a feeling that Near avoided speaking on purpose, because he feared that the sound of his voice would turn Mello off. Near is cautious like that. And he is probably right.
There is nothing to be said, or done, anymore. When the game is over, it´s over, that´s how these things are. One has to be careful not to attach meaning to things like this. Mello turns to hide his face and listens as Near gets up from his bed. One more minute, and he will be gone. For good.
Suddenly, curiosity lights up inside Mello like a spark, and he raises a little to peek at the other boy. Mello wants to know something. His hopes aren´t high, because Near is, well, Near, but he wants to know. He wants to check.
He catches Near off guard as he reaches out for him, touching the spot between his legs. For a second, Mello feels something hard forcefully throbbing against his hand, but then Near backs away from him, and it´s gone.
He can´t fight a malicious grin as he hears Near´s small feet shuffle towards the door.
“I would reciprocate,” he sneers, “but I loathe you. Sorry.”
Near stops indignantly, and his voice is cold and dismissive, as always. “I did that to help you sleep, Mello, not to give you ideas.”
“I would never touch you, Near.”
There´s a little pause, during which Mello hears Near shuffle on, and then the soft, cool voice replies: “I wouldn´t want you to.”
“Watch that thing in your pants while you cross the corridor,”Mello taunts as the door closes behind Near, “don´t knock anything over. And say Hi to Roger from me when you happen to run into him!”
Taunting Near after this is like the icing on the cake.
Mello lies in his bed, satisfied and still, and thinks about what Near might be doing alone in his room now. He has a pretty good idea of what it is, and it makes him smile. It´s a nice thought. An exquisite thought, even.
And holding that thought, Mello softly, peacefully falls into a deep and wonderful sleep, just as Near had intended.
Characters: Mello/Near
Genre: Slash, smut, mean Mello
Warnings: Ahahaha let's pretend it's not shota you guys
A/N: Two complicated geniuses and their struggle with puberty. Boys will be boys.
It´s like a natural law. When you´re a boy, and another boy offers to get you off, you don´t say no.
There are no exceptions to this law. It doesn´t matter whether you´re dumb or smart, courageous or timid, loud or quiet, laid back or high maintenance. It doesn´t even matter whether you like the other boy or hate him for several complicated reasons.
It´s a silent and visceral agreement that doesn´t rely on thoughts or affections. It´s the connection between two dots - between guilt-ridden pressure and much needed release. A simple equation. If someone offers you release, you take it.
It´s summer, and it´s hot, and the air refuses to move at all. The heat is choking any trace of breeze, and Mello is spread out on his bed and finds it difficult to sleep.
He almost always does, his body is humming with restless energy. He is a human beehive in that respect. In his mind, he secretly takes it as a compliment, from himself to himself. He´s heard Roger say once that it´s always the complex and intelligent kids that have problems to rest their busy little heads at night, and Mello knows he is the most complex and intelligent of them all. With one exception.
Tonight, it´s not his head that keeps him awake, though. But he chooses not to think about that, because it has nothing to do with being smart.
He´s tried books, but to no avail. He has opened and closed all the drawers on his desk several times, but nothing in there managed to keep his interest. He´s circled his small room a little until it started getting ridiculous. He has tried staring out of the window eating chocolate, but he felt like a lunatic freak after a while. The futility of it all has driven him into bed.
Then, an hour ago, he has kicked off his blanket in frustration. A while later, he took off his shirt. When that didn´t work, he took off the rest. And now he´s spread out, panting and naked, and the heat sticks to his skin, and he knows it´s not going to go away until dawn, and it drives him insane.
And that´s when he hears a creak from the door, and a square of faint light floods over his exposed body, a square of light with an angry small silhouette in it.
“Gah!” Mello is mortified. He struggles to grab something to cover himself with, but he finds nothing. He must have kicked that blanked really hard. All he can find is his black shirt, which he places over himself as strategically as possible, before he looks up again, face flushing with anger and shame.
He hardly finds the time to wonder why he gets a nightly visit from the least likely and least welcome person on earth. Near never visits anyone´s room, ever.
What are you doing here? Would be the obvious question, but Mello is far too naked to think about it right now, instead he stammers: “C-can´t you knock?!”
Like someone who was caught red-handed doing something bad, even if he didn´t. Instead, it´s Near who´s intruding on him in the middle of the night. But it´s Mello who is embarrassed for some reason. It´s not fair.
“Get out!” he manages. “This is not your room!”
Despite of this, Near moves closer. He looks … with a slight twinge of glee, Mello discovers that Near looks like crap. His puffy face is almost comically miserable, he has bags under his eyes, and even his silvery curls look distraught. Mello wants Matt´s digital camera, he wants it bad.
“Sleepwalk somewhere else, you freak”, Mello barks, baring his teeth in a ferocious gesture that is, as always, completely lost on Near.
“You need to stop.” Is the grave reply.
Near´s eyes are very dark and his gaze is hovering on a point somewhere beneath Mello´s face, as usual, carefully avoiding contact. There´s a hint of accusation in his eyes and a trace of irritation in his voice, which, all in all, is more emotion than Mello has seen from him in the entire last year.
Near´s hand whisks a strand of curls from his pale face in what seems to be a rare notion of exaspiration.
“I hear you, you know. You make noises. I can´t sleep. You´ve made noises for hours. You need to stop.”
Mello groans. He knew it had been a bad idea of Roger´s to put them into adjoining rooms all along. Roger seems to have hatched some kind of secret plan, as if they´d become genius super friends by living close to each other. Instead, Mello now has to put up with the prodigy pestering him about his precious sleep.
“Near, I am naked.”
“Yes…”, Near says, as if he didn´t notice it before. And then, for whatever reasons, he shuts the door behind him and slowly starts to stroll towards Mello´s bed.
Mello is embarrassed, and that is the last thing he wishes to feel with Near in his room, and it infuriates him and makes him nervous. He wants to die. No, he wants Near to die. Now.
“Come any closer, and I swear I´ll break your arm!”
It sounds pathetic, and he knows it. He doesn´t exactly feel big and bad at the moment. He is alone in his bed, and he has no clothes on and Near has.
Near stops for a second and blinks. His voice is reprehensive. “I know you´re not that stupid, Mello. I don´t know why you want me to think you are.”
Mello wants to hiss something in protest, but he can´t. Because he knows Near is right. Harming Near would be a defeat, not a victory. It would only land Mello in detention, supervision, or out on the street. It would only be a proof that Mello is indeed foolish, which is why he will never do it.
He can´t do anything but glare, as Near places his impertinent, uninvited little butt on his bed, and continues to stare at that spot next to his face. It´s aggravating. But more than aggravating it´s strange.
“You can´t sleep either,” Near informs him.
Mello snorts. “So you are a genius after all.”
But the scoff isn´t real. Mello doesn´t feel smug at all. He shifts nervously as he feels his body become really aware of their closeness, every muscle of his sleek body is tensing.
Near is so close, and somehow it feels as if the small shirt that covers so little of his body gets magically smaller and smaller. Near seems to be completely unaffected by this. Mello begins to wonder if Near himself has any idea what he is doing here.
“I was thinking”, Near says promptly, his empty stare still missing Mello´s face about a few inches, “I could probably help you with that.”
Mello has no idea what this is supposed to mean, but he laughs it off to be safe. “I´ll never need your help with anything! And since when are you the helpful type anyw...”
Their eyes meet. It´s most likely an accident on Near´s part, he really must be tired, and it´s a bit of a shock, for both of them.
Mello´s face twitches. And then, a moment later - Near´s face twitches, too. Mello almost can´t believe he saw it. It was only a split second, but it was there, a nervous twitch, as if Near has a reason to be embarrassed as well. There´s still no emotion on that pudgy face other than fatigue, but there is no mistake.
And with a rush of sudden unnerving certainty, Mello knows what they are about to do.
There is a unique, unexplainable magic in knowing you´re about to get off together. It´s nothing boys would ever talk about, but´s it´s alluring and scary and irresistible, and it erases everything in its way, shyness, embarrassment, or hate. It´s that powerful.
Near lowers his gaze, and his eyes snap into focus like a lense. They are both very quiet, and Mello´s skin starts to tingle when he realizes that Near is now openly examining him, absorbing every inch of him that he can see, which is a lot. Mello lets him. He figures that it´s easier for Near to look at his body than into his face, which is kinda sad, for Near, but he lets him.
He feels a little chill and wonders if Near has ever looked at him like that before without him noticing it. He can´t quite fathom how Near could be interested in things like these, but he is a boy after all, they both are.
He feels a nervous lurch in his stomach as Near raises a pale, delicate hand towards him.
“What d-“
Mello bites his tongue. Mello can´t ask, because Mello doesn´t want to hear him say it, because if Near said it, it would become real. Mello doesn´t want it to happen, but he does. And then it doesn´t matter, because it´s going to happen anyway, and he will let it.
His mattress shifts a little as the other boy crawls into bed with him. Mello figures that it´s all right, because it´s for practical reasons, right, it´s not like they´re cuddling or anything. His heart is pounding in his chest, and now he can feel that Near is shaking too. His pale round face still doesn´t move, however, every other part of him does.
Mello wants to gasp and bites down on his lip. He must be very, very quite now, he knows, because the slightest disturbance might kill all this now, and Mello doesn´t want that. He is shaking all over, a lot of it is lust, but most of it is panic, because he is scared of what will happen, and he is scared that it won´t. Both seems equally frightening really.
Instead he watches, motionless and mesmerized, how Near´s hand softly crawls across his exposed hips and disappears underneath that small piece of black fabric. The hand doesn´t hesitate a bit, it knows where it wants to go, and Mello doesn´t mind, he doesn´t mind at all.
He doesn´t realize how hard he is until petite, surprisingly warm fingers close around the sensitive flesh and make him squirm in inevitable delight. He has no idea when or how this happened. He feels weak, so ashamed, he wants to scream, and he wants to cry, and he wants it to go on.
The hand playfully, teasingly, feels its way up and down his length. And the fact that it´s Near´s hand almost makes Mello´s head explode. He whimpers and tries to shut it out, but he can´t. He knows these hands. He has observed them, grudgingly glared at them many times, working on cubes and matches and toys with flawless skill, and with a jolt of guilty pleasure, he remembers that Near has gifted hands. And that in this context, it is quite fortunate.
He lets out a soft moan and tries to accept that he will actually benefit from something Near can do, as his hips are trembling against that grip. A little breeze of air hits him as Near gently removes the piece of clothing so he can look. It scares and pleases Mello that Near wants to look. Mello almost doesn´t dare to peek down at what Near is doing, but he tries.
Near has rested his delicate chin on Mello´s leg and looks up to his cock as he plays with it, with the same distant interest as he would look at one of his useless dice constructions. It´s almost comical. Mello would laugh if it wasn´t his cock. Near´s soft curls are brushing Mello´s slim thighs in a way that feels far too good. It occurs to him that his erection must appear enormous from where Near is looking, and he wonders if the other boy is probably impressed, and he gets even harder just thinking about it. His breath is flat and brisk in his chest. He is panting, he realizes, like a dog being crushed by summer heat.
A tantalizing, sweet pang explodes in his aching loins as the hand continues to squeeze him, and Mello decides he can´t bare to look at Near doing this any more. He stares down at him and tries to wrap his mind around the concept of his rival giving him pleasure, but he can´t.
It´s mind-boggling and humiliating, it´s like vertigo, and Mello screws his eyes shut and presses his face into his pillow. He wants to forget that it´s Near, he wants to forget everything but the intense, beautiful pain that he is getting from it. He moans, desperately and longingly, into the unfeeling fabric as he remembers that one of the main attractions of getting off with another boy is guilt.
The other boy is really getting into it now, pressing and releasing him at will, and Mello crushes his heels into his mattress, trying to hold still, to not impatiently grind his hips into the other´s touch, because he doesn´t want to give him that. He tries to maintain a hesitant, soft sway to not give himself away too much, but it´s getting harder and harder to hold back.
Mello hears himself softly cry out into the pillow, grabbing bits of mattress and sheet with his hands. He wants to grab his tormentor instead, claw into white, soft, pallid flesh, but that would remind him of who it is, and he can´t have that, he just can´t.
And then, he suddenly stirs in shock as he feels a pair of lips press a little kiss on to his stomach.
Mello freezes, gasping for air, a cold shiver running down his spine.
It´s against the rules. It has to mean nothing. There can´t be kisses, because kisses are something. It has to mean nothing, or otherwise it doesn´t work, and especially not between them.
“... the hell you think you´re doing?” he mutters into the darkness, his voice strained and hoarse from all the cries he bit down. He realizes that he sounds bashful, and it annoys him. “Y- You can´t do that. It´s not how it w-works.”
There´s no reply, but Near doesn´t try it again. Instead, he intensifies his efforts, and Mello shivers and melts into his touch and almost manages to forget once more. But not quite.
He is aware that it is Near now, and somehow it doesn´t bother him that much. It even fascinates him, as it dawns on him that Near must do this to himself too, as all the other boys do. The touch he applies to Mello, the way he is working him, is much, much too good for it being the first time. Near is good at this. And since Mello doubts that Near has a wank buddy somewhere, it means the he does it to himself at night, like everyone else, and it´s a delicious thought. It means he is just a desperate horny little boy like all of them when the lights go out, and that thought pleases and arouses Mello.
His hips are shaking violently now, and panic numbs him as he realizes how hard he is about to come. What builds inside him is huge, and it scares him, it scares him out of his mind. His body arches upwards and his body becomes one tense, sleek curve, as his muscles contract and all guilt and all pain is washed away.
His mouth tears open for a silent cry, and he dies a little as he comes against the other boy´s soft touch.
The moments after are nothing but daze and humming nerves. Mello wants to think again, but he can´t, because his body is too busy twitching. A lot. All of a sudden, his bed feels soft and inviting, the night feels so much better, and all the energy is drained from him through sweet exhaustion.
The first thing he sees after the dizziness decreases is Near cleanly wiping his hand on his bedsheet. That, of course, means that Mello will have to sleep in that sticky mess, but it´s all right. It´s his after all, and somehow Near taking it with him to his room would feel weird.
He struggles to find his voice, and when he does, he says the only thing that´s appropriate in a moment like this. “Th-thanks.”
It´s the first time he says anything like that to Near. It´s the first time he says anything normal to Near, even if the circumstances aren´t.
After a while, Near replies, in an unusually throaty and shaky voice, “You´re welcome.”
Only now Mello realizes that Near hasn´t spoken through any of it. Maybe he´s just shy, but Mello has a feeling that Near avoided speaking on purpose, because he feared that the sound of his voice would turn Mello off. Near is cautious like that. And he is probably right.
There is nothing to be said, or done, anymore. When the game is over, it´s over, that´s how these things are. One has to be careful not to attach meaning to things like this. Mello turns to hide his face and listens as Near gets up from his bed. One more minute, and he will be gone. For good.
Suddenly, curiosity lights up inside Mello like a spark, and he raises a little to peek at the other boy. Mello wants to know something. His hopes aren´t high, because Near is, well, Near, but he wants to know. He wants to check.
He catches Near off guard as he reaches out for him, touching the spot between his legs. For a second, Mello feels something hard forcefully throbbing against his hand, but then Near backs away from him, and it´s gone.
He can´t fight a malicious grin as he hears Near´s small feet shuffle towards the door.
“I would reciprocate,” he sneers, “but I loathe you. Sorry.”
Near stops indignantly, and his voice is cold and dismissive, as always. “I did that to help you sleep, Mello, not to give you ideas.”
“I would never touch you, Near.”
There´s a little pause, during which Mello hears Near shuffle on, and then the soft, cool voice replies: “I wouldn´t want you to.”
“Watch that thing in your pants while you cross the corridor,”Mello taunts as the door closes behind Near, “don´t knock anything over. And say Hi to Roger from me when you happen to run into him!”
Taunting Near after this is like the icing on the cake.
Mello lies in his bed, satisfied and still, and thinks about what Near might be doing alone in his room now. He has a pretty good idea of what it is, and it makes him smile. It´s a nice thought. An exquisite thought, even.
And holding that thought, Mello softly, peacefully falls into a deep and wonderful sleep, just as Near had intended.