Fic: Game, Set, Draw; Naomi/Light; NC-17
HERE LINA! PORN FOR YOU!
Title: Game, Set, Draw
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Naomi/Light
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,191
Author's Note: Takes place in the same universe as 'The Madness of Naomi Misora', an AU in which Naomi figured out Light's secret and has been pursuing him very closely.
Spoilers: Vague, I guess? I've still only seen 11 episodes myself.
Warnings: Knife-kink
Summary: There were games that loves played. There were games that adversaries played. The games Naomi played with Light were one and the same.
It all came down to games, one way or another. Games of the mind, games of the flesh, games of will and wits and body. Every moment of the day, every word, every move was carefully calculated. It was a game of cat and mouse that never ended.
Naomi stood in the kitchen, her hand curled around the handle of a knife. How it burned, to hold a weapon in her hand and be unable to use it. Kill a murderer with no proof and she’d be a murderer herself.
“Forget dinner.”
The voice came from behind her and Naomi turned, fixing a sweet smile on her face. She even forced it to reach her eyes. He was standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning casually. He was watching her, raking them over her body. His eyes flashed cold for a moment.
“But I’m fixing your favorite,” she said, her voice soft and demure. Her fingers tightened around the knife, imagining herself plunging it into Light’s pale throat. She wanted to see him die, wanted to stand over him and watch as the life bled out of him.
“I think you don’t mind much if it waits,” he said, smirking. She was trembling. Did he think it was in excitement? It was, but not for his touch. She shivered at the thought of his death.
He pushed off from the doorframe, crossing the room to her. She knew how to react. He was smiling now, that cold touch gone. He was just a handsome young man, her handsome young boyfriend, looking for a bit of playtime before dinner. Nothing strange at all.
His hand closed over her wrist, the wrist that held the knife. She bit her lower lip. God, she was so close. Just one little move and it would be over.
But she couldn’t. She had only suspicions, vague fancies that she knew to be truth but that would never hold up in court. She knew better than that.
“You look so pretty when you’re cooking, Maki.”
“You say I look pretty no matter what I’m doing.” Naomi smiled, dipping her head slightly. He tilted up her chin and kissed her, and she shuddered with revulsion. He would think it was pleasure. He thought that she worshipped the ground he walked on, thought she craved his kisses and his touch. But he was suspicious.
He kissed her slowly, his fingers running over the back of Naomi’s hand. The hand that held the knife. It was sweet torture, to be so close. Light’s hand continued down, closing over her fingers, slipping the knife from her hand into his….
“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head to break the kiss.
“It would be unfortunate if you slipped.”
“Oh. I forgot I was holding it.” Naomi wished she could blush on command. Instead she dipped her head again, her hair falling forward to shield her face. Light stepped back, knife in hand. He placed a hand on her stomach, urging her back against the counter. Naomi’s hear began to speed up, her breath come quicker.
“Just be still,” Light said, smiling. His innocent little boy smile. The knife tip was pressed against Naomi’s stomach now. She drew back, sucking her abdomen in. The knife was wrenched upwards, slicing her thin shirt cleanly in two. The cut halves fell away, revealing her pale stomach and her plain black brassiere.
She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until she let it out. The tip of the knife was pressed between her breasts, below the clasp of her brassiere. She swallowed hard, watching the glint of the metal. A flick of Light’s wrist and the bra popped open, Naomi’s breasts tumbling free. Her nipples tightened painfully from cold and a hint of fear. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white.
She expected Light to touch her then. But he ignored her bare breasts, the knife sliding down across her stomach to the button of her jeans. A flick of the knife popped it off completely. Light was skilled with his fingers, he snagged the zipper with the tip of the knife and pulled it down. Naomi’s pants fell with a simple tug, now bunched at her ankles. Her panties were the same plain black cotton as her bra. The gleaming surface of the knife blade stood out against them. Light ran the back of the knife over the fabric of Naomi’s panties, back and forth, teasing her.
It was another game. She caught his gaze, caught the cruel and calculating look there. It was gone in a moment and she acted as though she hadn’t seen it. The knife turned, slicing into her underwear. She was naked now, pressed against the edge of the counter. It dug into the flesh of her bare buttocks.
She wasn’t comfortable with him holding the knife. She knew it was just another game, just another battle between them, while they both pretended it was nothing but a bit of kink. The knife was cold against her skin, too close to the sensitive flesh between her legs for comfort. She felt it brush against the insides of her thighs, slip between, the back of the knife running along the slit between her legs.
She wanted to protest. But instead she spread her legs, arching her back and feigning desire. Light’s hand reached up, toying with her breast as he stroked her with the back of the knife. The metal was cold, sleek against her most delicate of skin. Despite the danger - or perhaps because of it, Naomi couldn’t tell anymore - she was aroused.
Finally, when she was wet and wanting and breathing hard, the knife was removed. It was slick with her arousal. Naomi whimpered, hating herself for losing herself in the sensations. It was sick and wrong but her body didn’t care. She watched with heavy lidded eyes as she watched Light bring the knife to his lips, his mouth parted. He held it there, eyes locked on hers. And then he turned it, held it out to her, pressed the back of it against her lips. Naomi held his gaze and her tongue snaked out, running along the blunt edge of the knife.
Now Light was unbuckling his pants, pressing her against the counter, the knife set on the counter beside her. She fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the plastic packet and ripping it with her teeth before sliding the sheath over Light’s erection. Then he was inside her, taking her fast and hard against the counter, his hands gripping her buttocks. Her legs went around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
They didn’t look at one another. Naomi’s eyes were on the wall across the room, Light’s fixed on her shoulder. It was hot and hard and fast and Naomi bit her bottom lip and braced herself on the smooth countertop of the small kitchen.
And all the while, all the time Light thrust into her again and again and she rose her hips to meet him, her fingers rested on the hilt of the sex-scented knife.
Title: Game, Set, Draw
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Naomi/Light
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,191
Author's Note: Takes place in the same universe as 'The Madness of Naomi Misora', an AU in which Naomi figured out Light's secret and has been pursuing him very closely.
Spoilers: Vague, I guess? I've still only seen 11 episodes myself.
Warnings: Knife-kink
Summary: There were games that loves played. There were games that adversaries played. The games Naomi played with Light were one and the same.
It all came down to games, one way or another. Games of the mind, games of the flesh, games of will and wits and body. Every moment of the day, every word, every move was carefully calculated. It was a game of cat and mouse that never ended.
Naomi stood in the kitchen, her hand curled around the handle of a knife. How it burned, to hold a weapon in her hand and be unable to use it. Kill a murderer with no proof and she’d be a murderer herself.
“Forget dinner.”
The voice came from behind her and Naomi turned, fixing a sweet smile on her face. She even forced it to reach her eyes. He was standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning casually. He was watching her, raking them over her body. His eyes flashed cold for a moment.
“But I’m fixing your favorite,” she said, her voice soft and demure. Her fingers tightened around the knife, imagining herself plunging it into Light’s pale throat. She wanted to see him die, wanted to stand over him and watch as the life bled out of him.
“I think you don’t mind much if it waits,” he said, smirking. She was trembling. Did he think it was in excitement? It was, but not for his touch. She shivered at the thought of his death.
He pushed off from the doorframe, crossing the room to her. She knew how to react. He was smiling now, that cold touch gone. He was just a handsome young man, her handsome young boyfriend, looking for a bit of playtime before dinner. Nothing strange at all.
His hand closed over her wrist, the wrist that held the knife. She bit her lower lip. God, she was so close. Just one little move and it would be over.
But she couldn’t. She had only suspicions, vague fancies that she knew to be truth but that would never hold up in court. She knew better than that.
“You look so pretty when you’re cooking, Maki.”
“You say I look pretty no matter what I’m doing.” Naomi smiled, dipping her head slightly. He tilted up her chin and kissed her, and she shuddered with revulsion. He would think it was pleasure. He thought that she worshipped the ground he walked on, thought she craved his kisses and his touch. But he was suspicious.
He kissed her slowly, his fingers running over the back of Naomi’s hand. The hand that held the knife. It was sweet torture, to be so close. Light’s hand continued down, closing over her fingers, slipping the knife from her hand into his….
“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head to break the kiss.
“It would be unfortunate if you slipped.”
“Oh. I forgot I was holding it.” Naomi wished she could blush on command. Instead she dipped her head again, her hair falling forward to shield her face. Light stepped back, knife in hand. He placed a hand on her stomach, urging her back against the counter. Naomi’s hear began to speed up, her breath come quicker.
“Just be still,” Light said, smiling. His innocent little boy smile. The knife tip was pressed against Naomi’s stomach now. She drew back, sucking her abdomen in. The knife was wrenched upwards, slicing her thin shirt cleanly in two. The cut halves fell away, revealing her pale stomach and her plain black brassiere.
She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until she let it out. The tip of the knife was pressed between her breasts, below the clasp of her brassiere. She swallowed hard, watching the glint of the metal. A flick of Light’s wrist and the bra popped open, Naomi’s breasts tumbling free. Her nipples tightened painfully from cold and a hint of fear. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white.
She expected Light to touch her then. But he ignored her bare breasts, the knife sliding down across her stomach to the button of her jeans. A flick of the knife popped it off completely. Light was skilled with his fingers, he snagged the zipper with the tip of the knife and pulled it down. Naomi’s pants fell with a simple tug, now bunched at her ankles. Her panties were the same plain black cotton as her bra. The gleaming surface of the knife blade stood out against them. Light ran the back of the knife over the fabric of Naomi’s panties, back and forth, teasing her.
It was another game. She caught his gaze, caught the cruel and calculating look there. It was gone in a moment and she acted as though she hadn’t seen it. The knife turned, slicing into her underwear. She was naked now, pressed against the edge of the counter. It dug into the flesh of her bare buttocks.
She wasn’t comfortable with him holding the knife. She knew it was just another game, just another battle between them, while they both pretended it was nothing but a bit of kink. The knife was cold against her skin, too close to the sensitive flesh between her legs for comfort. She felt it brush against the insides of her thighs, slip between, the back of the knife running along the slit between her legs.
She wanted to protest. But instead she spread her legs, arching her back and feigning desire. Light’s hand reached up, toying with her breast as he stroked her with the back of the knife. The metal was cold, sleek against her most delicate of skin. Despite the danger - or perhaps because of it, Naomi couldn’t tell anymore - she was aroused.
Finally, when she was wet and wanting and breathing hard, the knife was removed. It was slick with her arousal. Naomi whimpered, hating herself for losing herself in the sensations. It was sick and wrong but her body didn’t care. She watched with heavy lidded eyes as she watched Light bring the knife to his lips, his mouth parted. He held it there, eyes locked on hers. And then he turned it, held it out to her, pressed the back of it against her lips. Naomi held his gaze and her tongue snaked out, running along the blunt edge of the knife.
Now Light was unbuckling his pants, pressing her against the counter, the knife set on the counter beside her. She fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the plastic packet and ripping it with her teeth before sliding the sheath over Light’s erection. Then he was inside her, taking her fast and hard against the counter, his hands gripping her buttocks. Her legs went around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
They didn’t look at one another. Naomi’s eyes were on the wall across the room, Light’s fixed on her shoulder. It was hot and hard and fast and Naomi bit her bottom lip and braced herself on the smooth countertop of the small kitchen.
And all the while, all the time Light thrust into her again and again and she rose her hips to meet him, her fingers rested on the hilt of the sex-scented knife.