Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme
Welcome to the Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme!
How it works:
* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade. ( Read more... )
How it works:
* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade. ( Read more... )
“I hate you sometimes,” Near whispers, when Mello looses his grip, “I loathe you.”
“But you’re all dressed up for me,” Mello teases, nudging Near’s knees apart and tugging him so that he’s straddling Mello’s lap.
“Stop it,” instructs Near, finally starting to struggle a little, and fight back. Mello turns and drags him down to the floor, pushing him onto his back. The silk catches, so he reaches down and rucks it upwards. Near’s dainty little socked feet kick a little, as his shins, and then his knees are exposed. He kicks harder, knocking the tea tray off the table and sending everything crashing to the floor. China breaks, wood splinters, and Mello tugs the offending limb upwards, biting at the skin just above the inside part of his ankle. The silk pools downwards and between Near’s pale legs while he twists to get away.
Mello lets go when Near delivers a sharp little kick to the side of his head. Since he’s just in socks, it doesn’t really do any damage, but it startles him long enough for Near to get up and scramble away. He rises unsteadily, smoothes down his skirts, (are they called skirts on a kimono?) and gives Mello a reproachful look over his shoulder.
“You ruined it.”
His hair is mussed, the red is smeared along his mouth, powder showing uneven patches. Mello touches his own lips and feels the makeup there, but doesn’t remember having kissed him. He knows he must have. Near stoops, to grab his geta, and slips them on, shuffling to the screen door. Mello growls in frustration as Near steps over the threshold, rounding the corner in a swish of rich fabric.
Near pauses, just out of sight, waiting. The silence strikes Mello as coy, for a reason he can’t place.
Until he works it out; he’s supposed to follow. He rises to his feet as Near murmurs,
“The situation isn’t entirely unsalvageable, and the kimono is already destroyed.”
Mello doesn’t need to be told twice. If Near wants to play dress up and pretend, then who is he to complain?
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