Warnings: Sexual content, language.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: Near is almost certain that this is a game neither of them can win.
Comments: Companion piece to When Losing is an Option, only focusing on Near’s thoughts this time. Plus, there’s more smut! XD
Defeat. It’s a term that Near isn’t entirely unfamiliar with—he knows what it means, in any case, but the word itself has never applied to him. He had always excelled in his studies at Wammy’s House; he had always scored the highest marks in class; he had never encountered a puzzle that he hadn’t been able to solve. In this manner, defeat has never touched him.
However, he’s relatively certain that he and defeat are going to get to know each other very well in a short amount of time.
This has nothing to do with the Kira case—Near will not accept loss in this matter. There is no doubt in his mind that Light Yagami – the one who had taken the place of L – and Kira are one and the same. It’s just a matter of time before Kira makes his final move and is inevitably crushed.
No, Near’s problem is not Light Yagami. His problem is something that encompasses the Kira case. The situation he is currently in is even more intricate than that of attempting to catch a serial killer.
Pretending isn’t easy anymore.
Mello had, in the distant (and not so distant) past, accused him of being emotionless—he had accused him of being incapable of feeling anything at all. It had been – and still is – a lie, of course. Near is only human, after all. He is capable of emotion; he always has been. However, when he was a child, it had been easier to pretend that Mello’s accusations were correct. It had been easier to throw himself into his studies and pretend that petty human emotions such as anger and fear and greed (and greater things, such as love) were beneath him.
Near may not look his age, but he is certainly no longer a child by any means, and the game of pretend is even harder to play now that Mello has sauntered his way back into his life. Mello makes him feel--he makes pretending harder than it should be.
Mello, too, is experiencing the same predicament, Near knows. He knows that Mello has been pretending to hate him for all of these years (and he’d admittedly put on a pretty damn good show of it when they were younger), but Near has never seen hatred in Mello’s eyes when the blonde has looked at him.
Even now, with Mello’s fingers curled around his neck and squeezing, cutting off his oxygen, Near sees no hatred in those ice-blue eyes. He sees something else, and that something manages to both thrill and frighten him (and Near probably only experiences the latter simply because this is also mostly-unknown territory).
“I could kill you,” Mello hisses, his breath hot against Near’s ear.
Near shivers—not because of Mello’s threat, but because of Mello’s proximity. He can feel Mello’s hardness pressing against him, and that alone causes his own erection to throb and twitch from within the confines of his clothing. He is certain that Mello feels it. He is certain that Mello feels him.
“I know,” Near replies, his voice hoarse. And he does know that Mello could kill him right now, but he also knows that the blonde won’t kill him. He can always call Mello’s bluff, even if he doesn’t do so verbally.
The pressure on his throat lessens and then vanishes, and Near drags in lungfulls of air only to have it stolen again as Mello’s lips press against his own with a near-bruising force. He doesn’t resist—they’ve done this countless times over the past few months, and so Near’s lips part for Mello’s questing tongue without hesitation. It’s like second nature now.
Their tongues meet with marginally less force than their lips, and while their kiss becomes somewhat gentler, it does nothing to hide the hunger that they feel. There is no point in trying to hide it now.
“I can feel you,” Mello breathes, his lips not quite leaving Near’s. He presses his body closer to Near’s and rubs, And Near cannot hold back a soft groan at the blonde’s action. “You’re so dirty, Near. What am I going to do with you?”
Near can think of a few things Mello can do with him, and all of those things involve nudity. Fortunately, Mello seems to be having similar thoughts, because he’s already beginning to unbutton Near’s shirt.
“Yes, yes,” Near murmurs, even though Mello hasn’t asked anything. Mello has never asked, but Near doesn’t mind the lack of asking for permission. He’ll always say yes, anyway.
“Yes, what?” Mello asks, and he’s not very good at feigning curiosity either. Maybe it’s because he already knows what Near wants.
“Touch me.” Near shrugs out of his shirt and reaches for Mello’s, but Mello stops him by running his hands up Near’s sides and brushing his thumbs over his nipples before pinching them hard.
Near whines and then swallows audibly, lashes falling to half-mast. “Mello….”
“You wanted me to touch you,” Mello says offhandedly, and then he smirks. “Or maybe you meant more like this?” He leans down, replacing his thumb and fingers with his lips and tongue, and even teeth. Whilst his mouth busies itself with Near’s chest, his right hand trails down Near’s abdomen and slips into his pants. “Or like this?” He loosely fists Near’s erection and gives it one long, slow stroke.
There is a dull thud as the back of Near’s head connects with the wall, and Near makes an almost-strangled sound, bucking his hips upwards in the effort to obtain more heat and more friction, but as soon as he does, Mello’s hand leaves him.
“Disappointed, Near?” Mello’s tone is almost, but not quite, mocking. He licks each of Near’s nipples and then lowers himself to his knees, looking up at Near questioningly. “I could do something better.”
The sight of Mello – beautiful, proud Mello – on his knees makes Near’s mouth go dry and makes his balls tighten painfully with want. The ‘please’ that tumbles from his lips isn’t quite voluntary, but once he’s said it, he can’t take it back.
This time, Mello’s smile shows teeth. However, he doesn’t make any sort of sarcastic remark (which is what Mello had expected him to do). Instead, he tugs Near’s pants and boxers down and leans in, his lips closing around the head of the younger man’s cock.
Near has never had an electric shock before, but he can imagine that it’s something like this, only on a less pleasurable and much more painful scale. Mello’s mouth is hot and wet, his lips and tongue are soft, and Near wants nothing more than to shove into the mouth that is currently enveloping the head of his erection, but he holds himself back. He waits.
Mello takes him in slowly and carefully, obviously torturing him like this on purpose, but eventually, the tip of Near’s length hits the back of Mello’s throat; Near feels the blonde’s muscles contract around him, and that’s what makes him tangle the fingers of both his hands into Mello’s hair and moan a little louder than he’d intended.
Mello draws back, whispering against flushed, heated skin, “That’s it, Near. Prove to me that you feel. Prove that I make you feel.”
Near knows he doesn’t have to prove it anymore. He already has. He wants to tell Mello exactly that, but then Mello starts bobbing his head and Near forgets all about telling him useless information that both of them already know, anyway.
Only when he’s close to coming does he tell Mello to stop, and much to his surprise, Mello does stop. “But you seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he remarks, his voice now a low purr. He licks the skin of Near’s sac, and Near trembles. “Why stop?”
Near releases Mello’s hair. “Because I want you to fuck me,” he replies, his gaze not leaving Mello’s even as he steps out of his pants and his underwear.
Mello slowly rises until he is standing at his full height once more. He then slips his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. In the next instant, his mouth is on Near’s yet again, as demanding and insistent as ever. “Again,” he growls just before biting down hard on Near’s bottom lip, and now there is the metallic tang of blood between them. Near doesn’t mind.
“I want you to fuck me,” he repeats, his tongue darting out to swipe at the blood welling in the cut on his lip.
Mello grabs his hips and grinds roughly against him, leather on naked skin, and Near feels Mello’s saliva and is own pre-cum smear against the older man’s pants. Mello seems to mind that about as much as Near minds the blood on his lip. “You’re forgetting something, Near.”
The ‘please’ that Near utters this time is completely voluntary. He doesn’t even wait for affirmation before unbuttoning and unzipping Mello’s pants, but he only gets that far before Mello swats his hands away.
“Lubricant,” Mello tells him as he reaches into his right front pocket.
“I have--” Near begins, but Mello cuts him off.
“So do I.” Mello withdraws the small tube from his pocket before shoving his pants down his hips and legs, kicking them off the rest of the way.
Near thinks that they should perhaps move this to the bed now, but he doesn’t voice his opinion yet, choosing instead to watch as Mello squeezes a generous amount of the lubricant onto three of his fingers.
Once again, Mello kneels before Near, and Near feels his fingers, slick and cool thanks to the lubricant, tease at his perineum before sliding further back, and when one of those digits enters him, Near hisses. The sound isn’t due to pain.
Mello quickly adds a second finger, and he thrusts and scissors those two fingers inside of Near before adding a third. That’s when he viciously twists his wrist; that’s when he curls his fingers and finds Near’s prostate, and that’s when Near keens and shoves his hips down onto Mello’s fingers, suddenly feeling like his knees are going to buckle.
Near’s voice isn’t nearly as steady as he’d like for it to be as he says (moans), “Mello, now.”
They make it to the bed, but only just. Mello isn’t exactly gentle when he shoves Near down onto the mattress, nor is Near the model of politeness when he snatches the lube from Mello and squeezes a generous amount of it onto the palm of his hand.
“Impatient, Near?” Mello is smirking again, and Near wants that smirk to disappear. H knows how to make that happen.
Near curls his fingers around Mello’s length, stroking him from base to tip and back again, making sure that he coats him well. The action accomplishes what Near wanted: Mello is no longer smirking. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted slightly. His hips are moving, too, shallowly thrusting into Near’s hand.
“Better stop that,” Mello warns, his voice husky, and though he’s told Near to stop, the blonde doesn’t cease the slow, steady movement of his hips.
“Impatient, Mello?” It might sound mocking (and maybe it is, just a little), but it’s honestly less of a challenge and more of an invitation. Come on, then.” He spreads his legs and gazes up at Mello, waiting, his hand still gripping Mello’s cock but no longer moving.
Mello makes a sound that might be a snarl and positions himself between Near’s thighs before shoving down and forward, sheathing himself fully inside of the younger man with that one thrust. “That what you want?” He is still now, unmoving inside of Near, but his arms are trembling. He’s holding back. He’s waiting for Near’s answer.
Near sees no reason to be dishonest, and so he tells him that yes, this is what he wants (and he does).
Mello starts moving again (yesyesyes), and he’s not slow, nor is he gentle. The rhythm is fast and almost brutal (maybe even animalistic), but Near doesn’t complain because he wants this. He hadn’t even complained the first time.
It’s easy to get lost in this. It’s easy to lose himself in feeling and easy to lose himself in Mello. Each time Mello thrusts down, Near shoves his hips upwards, and each movement of their hips pushes Near closer and closer to the edge. He knows he’s going to topple over it sooner rather than later.
When Near’s vision begins to darken around the edges, he realizes that it’s because he’s forgetting to breathe, and he inhales deeply between soft exclamations of Mello’s name. Air is a necessity—it is of vital importance, and Near knows this. However, not even air seems as important as Mello’s mouth on his neck or Mello’s hand on his cock or Mello’s length inside of him – Mello shoving into him over and over again – right now.
As expected, it doesn’t take long for Near to come, and as he falls, he brings Mello with him, the blonde’s name tumbling from his lips again and again like a mantra. Even while lost in his pleasure, he notes that his name is being said repeatedly as well, and that is enough to make him shudder beneath and clench around Mello.
Eventually, when their breathing and their pulses have slowed to something akin to a normal rate and after they’ve cleaned up a little, Near curls closer to Mello and presses a soft kiss to scar on Mello’s face. Somehow, the skin there feels both soft and rough at once.
Mello doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t try to push Near away, either. He doesn’t even flinch—not like he had the first time Near had brushed his fingertips against the scar.
Kissing Mello’s scar is more intimate than just touching it. In a way, it’s even more intimate than sex.
“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days,” Near murmurs. It’s a definite possibility given what they’ve gotten themselves into.
Mello pulls away from Near and slips out of the bed, padding over to his clothes, which are still lying in a heap on the floor. He looks over his shoulder at Near as he pulls his boxers and jeans on. His smile is possibly not as smug as he intends for it to be. “I have to win this competition against you first, remember? I told you I’d be waiting.”
Near nods. “I know,” is what he says (but doesn’t want to say). What he doesn’t say (but wants to say) is that this thing between them isn’t about Kira anymore—it hasn’t been about Kira for a while now. He wants to tell Mello that their fate is intertwined and undoubtedly as irreversible as that of Kira. He wants to tell Mello that they are both heading for almost certain defeat.
“I’ll be seeing you,” Mello tells him as he tugs on his shirt. Near can tell that the blonde is trying to make it sound nonchalant, but he doesn’t quite pull it off. He imagines that Mello would like to pretend that he has managed to pull it off. Near knows the truth, anyway: this is something like a ritual now – it has been for months – and Mello will be back here again within five days, if not sooner.
“I’ll be here,” Near replies, and he pretends that he has succeeded where Mello has failed—he pretends that he has managed to make those three words sound indifferent, even though he knows that he has failed, too.
Sooner or later, this game that they are playing – this game that has less to do with intellectual capabilities and more to do with something much more fragile and much more dangerous – will come to an end. Near is ninety-nine percent certain that both he and Mello will lose, but maybe they’ll gain something, too. Maybe their gains will actually outweigh their losses.
For once, the thought of defeat isn’t completely unacceptable.
They’re getting a little too old to play pretend anymore, anyway.
We are in the process of moving right now, and so I wrote most of this fic down on paper and then typed it up. The computer is currently sitting on the floor now and it killed my back to sit down and type this out, but hopefully someone will like it. XD That will be good enough for me~.
I wasn’t expecting to write a companion fic to ‘When Losing is an Option’, but I don’t expect to write a lot of the things that I wind up writing anyway. *LOL*
I’d really like to write more Mello x Near, but I’m unfortunately rather out of ideas at this point. >_>;