White Chocolate Chapter 1, a death note fanfic

The above takes place after the explosion at Mello's hideout, after his wounds have healed enough for him to be around others. This was writtten by two people as sort of an RP fanfiction, and we are working on later chapters now. If you enjoy our story, let us know. We both are encouraged when we know someone likes our stuff.

Death Note, Near, Mello, and all related characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata and are the property of Viz Entertainment.

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Footfalls echoed in the hotel lobby, heading for the elevators. A gloved finger pressed the call button, and he waited in the deserted room for the noisy thing to arrive. His eyes narrowed as he watched the numbers count down, all too slowly for his liking.

This was so inconvenient.

After the fiasco over the news network stakeout of N's investigation team, so much had fallen out of order. Damn that idiot, Mello snarled silently at the memory of the director of Sakura TV, taking a spiteful bite of his chocolate. Greedy, blind fool.

As if that wasn't enough, he'd been forced out of his base of operations as well... The Japanese Police Force had almost done him in... The only fortune he'd had was that he'd been taken for dead. What a legacy they'd inherited.

At last the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. He regarded the keycard he'd been given with a bitter scowl. How humiliating, to be reduced to taking handouts from him, of all people.

He'd never hear the end of this.

With a sharp sigh, he pressed the appropriate button, and the car lurched upward. Several floors up, he found the room indicated on the note included with his keycard. Steeling his jaw, he slid the card into the door slot and pulled the handle, stepping inside.

Inside was a spacious hotel suite, reserved of course for most elite of guests. Beautiful furnishings glinted here and there, but were lost to the people who so diligently occupied these rooms. They had bigger things to worry about. Much bigger things.

The curtains were pulled closed, and the lights were off at the moment, blanketing the entire room in darkness. Except for one corner of the room, where a few rows of neatly stacked monitors gave off an eerie electronic glow. Data streamed across them, something different on each, faster than a normal human could ever hope to process. Graphs, charts, numbers, even whole news articles. Police files, pictures, one after another they slid across the screen, displaying themselves momentarily before being replaced by another file, another bit of information.

They changed so quickly, but to anyone who stood there for more than a few seconds, it quickly became clear that all of this information was about the individual who had recently captured the world's attention.

Instead of sitting in a desk and chair, the individual who was inspecting this information was sitting on the floor. And he was not so much inspecting the information as making sure his precariously high house of playing cards did not fall. While he appeared bored, he was indeed concentrating very hard. He did not turn when he heard the other enter, he knew exactly who it was, thanks to the security monitors the team had installed all around the hotel. Besides, he had offered to let the other stay until he had gotten his feet back under him. Just for a few days at the most. He could always use another point of view as well. This was a difficult case.

"Mello." was the only acknowledgment that drifted from his lips, in that slightly sultry voice of his, as he placed another card, rising up on his knees to do so before settling back down to the floor. His white clothes bunched around him, two sizes too large it seemed.

Mello's eyes narrowed in response, and he let the door swing closed behind him as he took quick notes of the furnishings. What little he could make out in the artificial lighting, anyway. His gaze lingered on the monitors for a few moments before he chose to move further into the lavish room.

He took a bite of his chocolate as he strode closer to the towering card structure and the white-clad being who tended it. He watched as delicate fingers chose just the right cards and placed them perfectly, adding another tier to the daunting stack. "Don't get me wrong," he began, his voice low, edged with acid, "this doesn't change anything between us."

That was about as close to expressing a shadow of gratitude to N as he could muster. Be everything as it may, they were still rivals. And he was still deadset on catching their target first.

He moved around so that he stood in his host's line of sight, should he look up from that little project of his. Strange...where were the rest of the investigators? Surely they hadn't trusted Mello to be alone with the one groomed to be the next L...?

Near did not look up from his house of cards. This one was far smaller than some of the ones he had completed before, but it would grow fast. He'd been working on it since earlier that morning and his pace was brutal, calculated, and fast.

"Of course it changes nothing Mello. You're too stubborn for that." he acknowledged nonchalantly. The complete lack of tone in his voice didn't make it easy to decipher whether he was being sarcastic or serious, and those dark grey eyes did nothing to help either. They never strayed from the house.

Mello had lost the monetary and personal security the Whammy house had provided when he threw that tantrum and left. The only reason Near was letting him stay now was not because he liked Mello, nor Matt, despite being friends as they were raised together or that he wanted to help. It was perhaps due to a lingering sense of duty. After all, Mello could have just as easily been in his own position as L's successor if he had ever learned to behave less rashly.

As if psychic, the young man picked up on Mello's question. Or maybe it was that fact that he knew of course Mello would wonder where the team was. "Gevanni is in the next room over. I asked him not to disturb me while I was building this house." Things were becoming boring as they waited for Light Yagami's next move. Kira's next move, and Near was a naturally secretive person. Besides, if Mello wanted to kill him, it would have been done already.

He paused a moment to raise his gaze, dark eyes settling on blue ones before tracking the scars that covered the side of Mello's face and down his neck and shoulder. "Where is Matt, Mello?" He asked quietly.

"Out." was the curt reply. It always bothered Mello how perceptive Near was. Part of him wanted to sneer at the boy, to goad him to take a guess as to just what Matt was up to. 'Why don't you tell me, O Wondrous Successor?' he wanted to say. It was childish, really, but he couldn't help it.

Near had a power over him, to rouse a deep competitive streak from him. He was competitive by nature, to be sure, but never so strongly as when a matter concerned direct opposition with Near.

In any case, it did intrigue him to think that Near trusted him enough to have sent out Gevanni and the others. He ignored the cold scrutiny of his scars, watching the dark eyes in their movement. A wry half-smirk twisted his lip. "What's wrong, Near? Kira being too quiet for you?" he glanced pointedly at the structure, then waited for Near's eyes to meet his.

See, this was Near's problem. He always waited for the cards to be laid down, for someone else to play their hand. Brilliant as he was, Near was an analyzer to the core. If only he could learn that if you made the first move, you could force your opponent's hand, and alter the outcome of the game...

Not that it mattered. In the end, Mello knew he'd be the one to catch Kira. And then where would Near's smug little expression be?

"Of course he is Mello. He is obviously not here, so anyone of even normal intelligence could see that he is out." he chided softly. His lips pursed slightly as he glanced up at a new news article that flashed across the screen. Taking it in swiftly, Near's eyes snapped back to Mello's in a second.

"I already know who Kira is Mello. I just have to make sure it is safe to capture him. I will not put everyone I know in danger without being prepared. Unlike some...." he let cold statement hang between them like a sharp icicle. He would be the one to capture Kira. As L's successor, it could be no other way. He would not let his predecessor down, even if he didn't particularly like the former detective.

Rising again, he took another small set of cards and added another layer to the the tier, his dainty hands expertly manuevering his oversized sleeves around the previously placed cards. " Such a shame he chose to go with you. The Whammy house lost two of it's best." he mused out loud, knowing that it would piss the emotional Mello off. He felt a little betrayed himself, to have the two in life he might be able to call friends walk away from them. From him. He'd never admit, nor show it.

His attention back on the house of cards, he inspected it for weaknesses before deeming it good enough to support another level.

Each quip just made Mello's blood boil. His hackles had already pricked at Near's first jab, and he couldn't suppress a soft growl as it rose in response; but that last jeer? Hell no.

His lip curled back, flashing a few teeth. He was teetering on the edge here. His gloves squeaked mutedly as he clenched his fists. "Pff. Don't patronize me, Near. You and I both know that Roger was glad to see me go..." Mello never was the 'model pupil,' after all. He was far too radical in mindset to ever fit in with the other orphans. As for Matt...

Dammit. Why was he letting Near get to him like this?

Inwardly pleased, he reached up, curling a bit of his shock of white hair over a finger. "Roger just wanted us to succeed L and catch Kira. If he had wanted you gone, he certainly had the means to do it before you stormed out, Mello." he said softly. Mello's audible reactions gave him a tiny bit of pleasure that curled through his veins and hinted at it's addictiveness.

"However, it has been a bit easier without you throwing your silly tantrums. I can not deny that." he whispered softly.

Deceptively calm eyes scanned the remaining cards and his free fingers slid gently over them, selecting one, testing it, bending it to the right shape, and placing it with the gentleness of a butterfly.

"When will Matt be here? So I can let Gevanni know when to expect our second guest?"

The chocolate bar in Mello's hand split as he crushed it. Who the hell did Near think he was? "Tell me something, Near," he all but growled. "Did you offer your help simply so you could antagonize me face-to-face?"

Without waiting for a response, he drew closer to the boy curled halfway on the floor, swathed in white. In a swift motion, he was directly beside him, on one knee to better look into those bottomless eyes. Ensuring he'd have N's attention, Mello took him roughly by the collar of his oversized shirt. "Now you listen to me, you arrogant little shit. I AM going to surpass L, and I AM going to catch Kira. I don't need charity from you, the Wammy House, or anyone else. Got that?"

The boy's dead grey eyes met the blue ones with no sign of intimidation, no sign of any emotion really. "I can not antagonize you if you don't allow yourself to be antagonized." He let the slim fingers slip through the silky hair. Giving no outward indication that he was intimidated by the hand so close to his thin throat, he continued, his voice soft and icy.

"Surpassing L is fine Mello. But L is dead. It is easy to surpass the dead. Perhaps you should worry more about the living." he mused softly. For the moment, he had halted adding to the card house and was deeply contemplating the dwindling deck in front of him. "This is not Charity Mello. I expect your cooperation and information while you are staying here. "

He couldn't place cards with Mello holding him. The spiteful young man would likely jerk N into the house just to ruin it. He'd been working on it for hours.

"Besides, the trap for Kira has already been set. Please do not do anything rash."

Mello narrowed his eyes and drew closer still, so that the two's noses nearly touched. "Rash? When am I rash, Near?" he sneered, his voice oozing sarcasm. He released Near with a gruff movement, but didn't use enough force to knock him over. Though the prospect of shattering that card house did amuse him. Instead he stood back to his full height and regarded his destroyed chocolate bar. With a soft sigh through his nose, he took a bite of it.

"But whatever good could I do you?" he mused through a mouthful. Swallowing it, he continued. "After all, if you've already got a trap set for Kira..." He turned towards the monitors, pretending to watch them for a moment. This was rather interesting.

The young man didn't budge, he wouldn't allow himself to fall over or show any kind of weakness in front of his rival, this time was no exception. "I'm not sure yet, but you can never have too many points of view." he said softly, careful to phrase his words. His eyes fell on a small piece of the chocolate that had dropped to the floor when Mello had crushed his bar, and he reached out.

He made sure all his rooms were kept clean enough to do surgery in and a hotel room was no exception. He felt no shame in bringing the sweet dark treat to his lips and partaking of the creamy goodness. It was a stark contrast to the white of his skin and hair, and was surprisingly, not bad.

He pulled his fingers back and contemplated the dark smears for a moment before carefully cleaning the digits with his tongue. "Matt?" He asked again.

"For God's sake, would you shut up about--" He spun around, and noticed the smudge of darkness against the detective's pallid skin. His eyes widened. Was that...chocolate?

...HIS chocolate?

"What the hell...?" He bobbed down again, licking the fingertip of one glove. He then wiped it against the chocolate smear, but when he pulled his hand away, it lingered. With a soft click of his tongue, he tried again, harder, but again there was evidence left.

Without thinking, and before Near could utter much protest, he leaned forward and ran his tongue over the trace of sweetness strewn across the pale cheek.

Near's eyes followed the gloved hand as it retraced it's course, and the thumb scrubbed at his cheek, once, twice, and he could only assume it failed because the next thing to graze his cheek was the other's tongue. His normally expressionless eyes widened a tad, and his lips parted. He barely avoided gaping Mello.

He was certainly shocked by that sudden action, and withdrew after a second, swallowing and quickly schooling his features back to their normal places. It only took a split second to recover, but he knew it was too late. Mello had seen his reaction and there was no way to avoid the jibes that could come his way.

He went on the offensive. "Mello. I'll have you remember that I am not Matt, and I don't appreciate you touching me in such a way. Invading someone else's personal space is unacceptable." he said softly, hoping the recovery was swift enough. He had no way of knowing whether or not Matt and Mello were intimate, but his statement would serve a purpose in either case.

The words registered and struck a nerve, but stronger still was the sense of triumph that soared through Mello's mind. He'd finally done it. He'd broken that frozen wall separating Near from all things human. Even now, was that a hint of color in Near's cheeks? Mello felt a twisted grin spread across his face. 'What's this?' he thought to himself, his eyes flickering with something bordering on malice. 'Have I startled you, O Unrufflable One?'

All this time, he'd had the power to force Near to feel. And it was so easy.

More. He had to have more of this intoxicating feeling. He had to shatter Near's defenses again, tear down that smugly blank expression...

He took hold of Near's shoulder, and leaned in close again. "Hold still," he ordered lowly. "I missed a spot."

A split second told him that it was over, it was too late. Mello had noticed his momentary weakness, and the glint in his eye and grin on his face told Near volumnes about what Mello thought of it. N half hoped Gevanni would walk in before this could get any further, he could perhaps save face. But Gevanni didn't walk in, and he had no saviour. He was alone again. As L, as N, as even a normal person, he seemed completely alone.

But his guard was up now, and he didn't so much as blink when Mello ordered him to hold still. He offered an audible sigh, now appearing unconcerned, even if his heart had sped up enough for him to feel it in his oh-so-pale throat. "If you can't do something right the first time Mello..." he warned softly.

The hand on his shoulder was stronger than Near had imagined. Though Mello was thin, he certainly was strong. Near found himself wondering what would happen if they actually got into a fist fight.

The stab was rewarded with a soft growl under the dark-swathed one's breath. 'Want to do this the hard way, do you?' Mello hissed silently. 'Fine.'

His tongue traced Near's cheek again, but this time it lingered, strayed... Determined to destroy Near's resolve, he did the only thing he could think of. The blond mashed his lips against N's, sucking the traces of chocolate still clinging to them.

He pulled the pale investigator closer, simultaneously moving to press against the boy, brushing his knee against the lilly thigh hidden beneath the billowing cloth.

He could feel his own heart racing alongside Near's. He felt a deep and primal thrill run through him at the thought of evoking another break in character in his adversary. The sense of control was nearly overwhelming to him...he felt a vine of pleasure curl deep in his gut and creep throughout his entire system. Near's earlier comment regarding Matt hadn't been without ground; he and Mello were certainly more than partner detectives. And yet the rush he felt now was so different from when he was with Matt. On one level, it was richer.

Sweeter.

He was certain that his heart had stopped and he was awake merely because the oxygen in his blood hadn't run out yet when the warm pink tongue slid over his cheek a second time. What could Mello think he was doing? What could he be thinking period? These two questions were the only thoughts that had room in his head at the moment.

Any thought of Kira, the second L, Matt, Gevanni, his house of cards... These thoughts were completely obliterated when Mello's lips crushed against his, like waves against a jetty. His heart was shocked back into beating, but he realized he wasn't breathing either. It was the knee making contact with his thigh that that made his body work correctly again, and he gave a soft whooshing breath.

His eyes widened and he pushed himself back forcefully, sliding not-so-easily back a few inches. Carpet was hard to slide on. His mind made a mental note before it pushed that thought away as well and turned to the matter at hand. Slowly, he lifted a hand to cover his lips, his eyes still on Mello, once again settling quickly back to their customary expression.

"Mello, it would be unwise to further pursue this course of action." he tried to sound businesslike, no nonsense. This was not the time for sex or anything like it. They had a job to do.

A soft, wickedly amused chuckle rose in Mello's chest. He followed after Near; it's so much easier to crawl across carpet than to slide. "But Near," he mock-chided with a grin, "I never leave a job unfinished. Even if it takes me..." He slid up liquidly onto Near, taking hold of his slender shoulders and squeezing tight, his hips brushing against the younger's with dark intent. His eyes burned like dying embers, dark and hungry. "...more than once..."

Nevermind the repercussions of whatever may come after. All he cared about was that heady feeling he was enjoying, this blissful surge of power, this wonderful ability to make the ever-impassive N squirm beneath him...

He brushed away Near's hand, squeezing it pointedly, and forced his lips against the pale detective's again. Still he could taste hints of chocolate on those lips. With a strange, hungry sound, he forced his tongue through the barrier of Near's mouth, and found hidden notes of sweetness within.

So exquisite was this taste, this feeling, that he cried softly into Near's mouth, and his hips rolled carnally against those pinned halfway beneath him.

So this was it then. Everything about their long relationship was coming to a head, love, hate, competition, even secret feelings they had carefully concealed from everyone, including themselves. They were already far, far past the point of no return. Any way either of them looked at it, this had been coming for a long time. Perhaps Near should just be relieved that it wasn't ending at the point of a gun. He was a bit surprised, but that, like all of his other emotions, were easily hidden.

Mello. His leatherclad rival slid over him like melting chocolate, and he sat there, transfixed by those peircing eyes. He knew M couldn't see his soul, but he knew it wouldn't stop the emotion-driven man from trying. Mello. The gloved hand jerked his own from his mouth and squeezed. A warning? What was it? His senses were flooded with Mello, the the taste of the invader, the hard and demanding way those hips ground into his. Mello. The noises made caused his body to react in ways he hadn't planned for. He'd never imagined this would happen. He had never been confronted by a situation like this, and his knowledge of the technical aspects of arousal had not prepared him at all for the emotions that seemed to be in tow.

" Mello.. " he whispered into the other's lips, deciding to try and contain this one more time. His voice was again devoid of emotion.

His eyes closed momentarily as he took a slow breath, attempting to hide from Mello the signs of his body's betrayal. The oversized clothing helped a little.

"Mello, I have work to do." His toes curled the slightest bit, and he felt the edge of the deck of cards through his thin white sock. And with that, he once again appeared as affected as a rock. Perhaps Near was inhuman after all.

Inhuman? No. Mello knew this wasn't true. It was buried deep under years of ingrained impassiveness, under layers of barriers and masks...but in the end, that's all they were.

And Mello had found the key to breaking them.

He took note of Near's every breath, his every sound, his every movement, right down to the faintest batting of an eyelash. He knew he was wearing the ghostlike boy down.

He was determined to win. He was going to drive Near to the brink of madness, to once and for all force him to be just as human as anyone else. He wanted his victory voiced by Near himself, in an emotion-charged cry of his taken name.

He wondered how it would sound, his name spoken by Near, but with inflection. With emotion. With need.

Mello's smoldering eyes darted over the pale one's body, resting briefly on the folds of cloth between his legs. The wicked grin spread further and his eyes flicked back to meet those of his host. Near's clothes were loose, yes. But not loose enough.

"Mm, I'm well aware of that, Near," he half-purred, slinking over top of him again as he let one gloved hand slide down N's neck, chest, midriff... "...But I've got some unfinished buisness to take care of first." In a flash of black against white, the blond took hold of Near's member through the layers of cloth separating it from the outside world, and squeezed mercilessly.

Near's chin lifted slightly and he swallowed, closing his eyes as the practiced hand slid down his body and he was grabbed. His toes curled again, the only sign that his body strained to arch, to do something other than sit as it did, motionless. He rarely indulged himself in pleasures of the flesh, he had always had too much to do, too many people surrounding him.

Thin, soft pale lips parted, showing the tiniest hints of the teeth they normally kept hidden as he let out a second tiny, inaudible breath. Normally he was a planner, the type that's an excellent chess player. Like L. He planned his moves twelve steps in advance. But what happened when there was a situation you had never forseen?

He was trying his best to keep cool, but when he spoke again, his voice wavered ever so slightly, it was almost impossible to detect. Maybe it wasn't even there. "Mello. Stop. Before Gevanni comes back." He wouldn't flail, he wouldn't scream. He knew Mello wanted something from him, and he knew that in this situation, Mello would get it from him, in the end, if he couldn't threaten him off.

But that wasn't likely. Mello wouldn't stop until he had what he wanted and he would do anything to get it. He could only hope that Gevanni would walk in. But something small inside him wanted this to continue, curiousity maybe? At least that's what he told himself. It would be just another experience to add to his small pool of memories. That's it.

Again he resumed his stoic expression, dropping his head and peering up from beneath his bangs. This position was much more uncomfortable than it would appear, especially supporting someone else's weight. "You're too heavy. My arms are uncomfortable."

"Then lie down," Mello snapped, without giving the boy much choice in the matter. He abandoned Near's waking flesh to grab his shoulders and shove him unceremoniously to the floor.

He followed right behind him, pressing his chest against Near's, grabbing hold of the thin, ivory wrists. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he might break the boy if he wasn't careful. N was so delicate, almost frail...

An undulating motion drew Mello's hips across Near's again, and he couldn't help but let a shuddering breath escape him. Cold blue eyes focused on those of shimmering darkness once more. The blond snickered at Near's words, the protests. "Heh. Let Gevanni come in. I'll blow his head off."

He leaned closer, brushing his lips over Near's cheek, lightly tracing a path to his jawline, and into the tresses of silver at his neck. Mello's heart was racing; his pulse throbbed in his chest and ears and against the confines of his pants. And he knew it was within his power to cause Near to feel this same thing. Nothing would deny him this victory.

He had no choice in the matter, and was bore to the ground by bulldozer who went by the name of Mello. His arms were caught up at his sides, his wrists ringed, encircled. His body was strangely warm, from a combination of the man over him and the wake his own body was beginning to stir. He twisted them, testing, but the gloved hands were like iron grips and held him fast.

Those eyes. They were captivating. He could see his future in them, at least the near future, and he wasn't sure if he would enjoy it. His bottom lip was the first thing to give him away. It began to quiver, just a tiny bit as the breath gently caressed his jawline. What little hair was on his body stood straight up and patterned his flesh with tiny bumps.

It was too much. An audible gasp forced it's way from the normally unyielding body. The first stones of the dam had been washed away, and the rest of the dam was straining against the weight of the water that longed to break free. He did not move, he could not, he told himself he would not give Mello what he wanted. He would fight, would resist him as long as he could.

"If you harmed Gevanni, Mello, I would be forced to put you in prison." he said, pretending that Mello was still having no affect.

A cruel laugh rumbled from Mello's chest, sure to be heard as well as felt from their contact. That gasp of Near's had sealed his fate. He pressed his hips further against the pallid ones beneath him, and moved Near's hands so that he held both wrists in the grip of one hand.

Free to roam elsewhere, his other hand did just that. His fingers trailed down Near's chest, flicking at a still-hidden nipple a few times before squeezing it. Once he'd sufficiently distracted the boy, Mello let his other hand trail south as well, dragging his fingertips over the inside of Near's arms as it went, until it arrived at the untended teat. "Tch. This'll never do..." he mumbled.

He abruptly yanked Near's shirt open, nearly tearing a few buttons in the process. Before any protest could register, Mello again attacked the snowy chest; one nub was rolled between a thumb and forefinger, the other was tended relentlessly by teeth, tongue, and lips.

'There's no use fighting me,' Mello thought silently, swirling his tongue around the bud trapped between his teeth. 'You're not going to win this one...'

His newly-freed hand continued further down the thin body, tracing the curve of Near's stomach, the ridge of his hips, the concave dip between pelvic bone and navel. With only the barest of experimental brushes against it as warning, he took hold of Near's shaft once more, and slid his fingers over it at a slow, tormenting pace.

The lilly skinned boy's body strained up against it's captor gently, both wanting and trying to avoid the contact simultaneously. The result came out much less cool than he had anticipated, making him a wriggling mass under Mello. He very nearly gave voice to another soft cry, as he was manhandled, his arms forced above his head and his sensitive nipple victimized.

His world was spinning, threatening to crumble like an ill-built house of cards. He had always been the best at everything, but this? This was humiliating. He could solve the most difficult puzzles in the world, but he could not control how his body reacted to the fire starting fingers? He could build castles out of dice, but he could not build enough resistance to take control of this situation?

Frustrated himself, he didn't realize his hands had been released until his shirt was ripped open. His head rose an inch off the floor with the force, before it settled back in it's previous position. Mello had commanded his attention, and he had recieved it again. Colorless eyes settled back on the rival and became calculating, trying to fathom Mello's next move. As calm as Near normally was, there were times that even the calmest of people had trouble keeping their cool.

The lips that had previously surprised him with the hard kiss did so again, but this time the area was much more sensitive. One of the dark eyes slid closed as the lightest dusting of color seeped across his cheeks. He exhaled sharply again, but still did not cry out, and left his hands above his head where M had placed them, as the warm mouth and skilled fingers teased and taunted the pink nubs he never had paid much attention to.

Underneath the clothes was a skinny, pale, body, very small and delicate, almost as white as the cloth that hid it. Nothing about Near was hard except his gaze at times. And, right now, a very interesting part of his anatomy. Which Mello was aiding in making harder. His chest began to rise and fall at a slightly faster pace, and he returned his gaze to the ceiling, watching the lights from the everchanging monitors dance across the white expanse.

All that writhing and wriggling, the labored breathing...even Near's own pulse betrayed him, and spurred Mello further into this strange, toxic haze of control-driven euphoria. He felt evidence of his ministrations' effectiveness, heard it, almost tasted it.

For a few seconds, he sucked the boy's nipple zealously, nearly to the point of being painful. He then released it and peered at his milky captive with a brief laugh. "For all that protesting...all your pseudo-distractions..." he gave Near a particularly strong stroke. "...you seem to be enjoying this."

His piercing eyes never left Near's face as he half-crawled backwards over him, letting his fingers massage gently at every point where he took temporary anchor-holds on the boy's sides. Finally he rocked back and shifted, so that he perched just over Near's telling bulge. Mello's fingertips traced the edge of it, teasing the underneath through cloth.

"You want this, don't you, Near?" he goaded, his voice velveteen poison. "You want me to touch you...here..." His fingers pressed against the sides of N's member, slowly gliding down to the base. "Just say it. Say you want me to..." His hand worked lazily, applying enough pressure to torment the detective, but at such a pace that he'd only be wound up.

M's eyes were those of a starved falcon, locked on the eyes of his cornered prey. He was so close to victory. So close...

He did not protest the sensations that Mello provided his nipple, did not react at all, even if he wanted to whimper. The pink nubs had certainly woken up under the guidance and direction of the hot mouth. He resisted squirming, but it would not be long now. He couldn't swallow his whimpers forever. They were pressing forward, wanting to spill out. When Mello's mouth lifted, the cool air caused him a little discomfort, but also helped to stir him further.

He couldn't help but think of how much like a spider Mello seemed, creepy backwards down his body, though he only noticed out of his peripheral vision. He swallowed, his pale little fingers curling tighter and tighter into the hem of his shirtsleeves, still above his head. His heart was pounding by this time, beating against his ribcage like a captured bird.

Mello touched him again, sending electricity racing through his body. Mello was turning him on, and Nate was reminded of himself somehow. A few steps into that thought process brought him to a startling conclusion. The was no question at the moment. This is what Mello was finding so thrilling. Near was Mello's toy. To be played with and enjoyed when and where he pleased. The same way turning on his toys brought Near pleasure, Mello was forcing his body to react, and was enjoying the control.

Near nearly growled. That Mello should assume, (correctly, let it be noted) that by this time he wanted this strange torment to continue, upset him. He had spent a long time learning to conceal his emotions, and here Mello was, effectively trashing those many years. He waited a few moments before responding.

"Mello, if I wanted it, I certainly would have found someone else to experience it with." he managed, feeling a tiny bit of triumph that his voice did not break this time. His eyes strayed toward Mello's again, curious about the reaction he would receive.

Fires raged through Mello's mind at those words, and a surge of unmitigated wrath flashed in his eyes. For the barest of seconds, it must have looked like he'd scream at Near, or shake him, or clobber him clear into next week. But the anger twisted, becoming some strange new emotion, something dark and malicious. "Heh. Don't make me laugh," he sneered, giving Near a cruel squeeze. "Who would want you? You, the cold and unfeeling investigator?" He adjusted slightly, looming dangerously over his pale rival. "Who'd have you? Gevanni? Rester?"

His hands abandoned N's arousal to take hold of the hem of his pants, where he pulled, raising the boy's hips a few inches off the floor. He then yanked them down around his knees, exposing the lily thighs, and gave a short, barked laugh.

"Face it, Near. You don't have anyone else."

He felt his own blood boiling, and his pants were starting to hurt so badly...

M's fingers traced Near's length again, meeting much less interference now that the oversized clothing was gone. He could nearly feel the other's pulse through his gloves, giving him another heady rush. "I'm the only one who's ever touched you this way, aren't I?" he grinned fiendishly. "I'm the only one who will, aren't I?"

He took hold of the organ again, and stroked it slowly, his touch almost tender. "I'm all you've got..."

Those words surprised him, made his lips part and drop into a little O. They surprised him because they hurt. Like sharp little papercuts, they only stung at first. Then the pain came, creeping slowly into him as the meaning of the words sank further. Mello was right. Though neither of them had a huge circle of friends, at least Mello had a few people that could be considered such, unlike himself.

'Who'd have you?" Mello asked before cleanly dragging his pants down his thighs in one fluid motion. The carpet was rough to his now bare bottom. He barely had time to think of how much practice M must have had with his dog, Matt before his thoughts darted back to those words. His thighs instinctively pressed together, and his fingernails bit into his palms sharply at this further humiliation. He felt a tiny bit of wetness soak into the sleeves, and tilted his head back to confirm that he was bleeding, but also to hide the flicker of pain that slid across the depthless orbs.

Yes. The stain appeared black in the low lighting, but he could see the few drops as thus on the hem of his sleeve.

Why? Why must his body react like this? He didn't want to answer those smug, self assured questions. He just wanted to be left alone again. He didn't need to be made to feel bad by the rival he was helping. His mouth closed tightly, and then when he was touched in an almost caring fashion by the young man above him, he could no longer hold in the soft mewl and shudder that snapped through him.

His body ached for more, ached for something his mind didn't want. What could he do. He was right where he was sure Mello wanted him. It was too late. Even the greatest mind in the world couldn't change or stay this course of fate.

"Mello, it is unwise to assume things." his voice wavered, telling the truth.

That sound and that shudder sent electricity ripping through Mello's soul. A dark bloom of delight and pleasure blossomed deep within him, spread through his system like wildfire, set his blood ablaze. "But it's true, isn't it?" he half-whispered, trying to ignore the now-painful throbbing between his legs. "You want this..." He stroked again, still using that gentle touch, seeking more of those intoxicating reactions. "You need this..." Again his hand slid over the trembling shaft, applying just a hairbreadth's more pressure.

"And I'm the only one who'll give it to you..."

M's free hand now ran over the seam of his own pants, stoking the mounting heat there. His fingertips played at the buttons and he felt his pulse quicken for it. "Just say you want it..." He ran his fingers over Near again. "Say it..."

Another pointed squeeze, though not one that would cause pain.

Near knew that at this point, there was no use fighting. There was no point in telling Mello a lie. Mello could see and feel for himself the truth. "Mello, please.... Have more.... respect for me.." he said in a voice so quietly that even he almost couldn't hear. It was a strange way to plead, but he didn't want to be demeaned any further by being forced to say such things. He knew it was futile though.

As if to further ask for a bit of mercy, Near tentatively lowered one arm from above his head and brushed the lightest of fingertips across Mello's thigh. This was the only way he could beg. He was conceding defeat. Silently. He could not risk having any of his underlings hearing him asking for something as personal as this from Mello. He was Near. Efficient, silent, and the best. He had to remain that way to the people beneath him, or risk losing everything.

To him, submitting this way released him from the strict rules that governed his interactions with other other people. Near was now free, at least for a time. He watched Mello for a few seconds further before pressing his hips upwards the slightest bit into the hand. His breathing was soft, but fast, and his fingertips scraped across the leather pants that clad Mello's thigh again, this time a tiny bit more needy.

This was nice, very nice. But it wasn't the perfection Mello sought. His victory over Near had to be absolute. He rewarded Near's effort with a few more strokes, and leaned close to the pale one, almost so their noses touched. "Say it."

He turned his head, angling his ear before Near's lips; one of the strange glimpses of the kindness he seldom proffered. Fine, you don't want to say it out loud. Just whisper it then...

To aid in the persuasion, his hand continued to tend the swollen organ, rubbing it enough to maintain arousal and perhaps to tease N just slightly, but not enough to bring him closer to satisfaction.

He did his best to ignore the trembling in his groin, the carnal hunger threatening to consume all traces of rational thought. Never before had he felt so in control of anything...especially Near.

He shuddered again, his body trembling in response to Mello's persuasion. He knew what Mello wanted, he understood what the tilt of the head meant, and he closed his eyes again. He couldn't.

"Mello....." His voice was the barest wisp of noise in the room. "Please...." this time his voice was placating, wanton, drenched in the unfamiliar thing called desire, lust, and a hundred other things. He wouldn't say anything else. He could bend no more without breaking. Or so he thought.

A few more strokes set his teeth on edge, and he bit the inside of his cheek, fingers tightening on Mello's thigh as he lowered his other arm to a more comfortable position. A second, almost inaudible mewl trailed out of him as he began to once more wriggle. His eyes opened again, still pointed away from the aggressor, a soft glaze over them.

His lips parted again, as his breathing grew even more heavy, more of a soft pant now than anything. His foot slid out, straight, and accidentally tapped a bottom level card of the cardhouse. With that support gone, the card house tumbled immediately in a soft rush of air and paper. It came at exactly the time that Near's resolve dissolved, and his previously tense muscles relaxed.

"I do... want...i-it... Mello..." he whispered.

The rush that followed those words, their boundless meaning, it was nearly overwhelming. So completely intoxicating was that admittance, Mello nearly collapsed then and there. He gave a strange cry, something between a laugh of triumph and a moan of physical need, and returned to his previous position.

One hand continued to work Near's flesh, while the other unfastened his pants, freeing him at last. He ran his fingers over himself once, twice, silently promising himself some attention. With a grin, he abandoned all activity to reach into a pocket of his vest. After a moment of fiddling around, he pulled one hand out, rolling the gloved fingers together; the other took hold of Near's undergarments and pulled them away as well. He spread the moonbeam-coloured thighs carefully, and slowly probed at Near's entrance with slicked fingertips.

The pleasure, the desirous impatience, all the dizzying emotions running through M's mind were secondary to one thought that bellowed deep in the expanses of his psyche.

I win.

Near barely noticed the cards falling, and instead kept his gaze squarely on the ceiling. He had just given Mello exactly what he wanted, and they both knew it. N could only hope that M would keep this to himself. There was no one to tell. No one to gloat to. No way that Mello could use this to harm his investigation. It wasn't wrong, it wasn't hurting anyone. No one would know but the two of them.

He exhaled again, his fingers curling into his palms and biting. He felt, rather than saw Mello reposition himself, reach into a pocket? But it didn't appear that he actually retrieved anything. The light blue briefs were pulled away before Near felt something touch him. He stiffened immediately, his gaze snaking to Mello.

"....What are you doing?" he asked softly. He was unaware of what this new development entailed, and he wasn't so eager to find out. Mustering a bit of strength, he tried to bring his thighs together, tried to prevent M from continuing this course of action. "Mello... Stop."

But Mello just shook his head and forced Near's legs apart again. As he slipped one finger inside, wriggling it, beginning to stretch the boy, he gave an impish grin. "Now's not the time to be indecisive..."

If he had to hold Near down, so be it. He hadn't come this far to quit now. He wasn't about to be denied. He slipped another finger in, and continued to work at the entrance, barely able to ignore the pounding between his legs. "I've started this. And I'm going to finish it..."

A third finger trespassed. He couldn't wait much longer...

Near's body didn't accept the intrusion easily, and he whimpered as he was invaded in a way he hadn't expected. It didn't hurt, but the pressure was strange and unfamiliar. He wasn't being indecisive! He wanted to retort. This hadn't been what he was expecting, and shouldn't be included in that admission. But technicalities in a situation like this would hold little to no bearing on Mello's actions. As long as he wasn't in pain, Near supposed he could live with it.

A second finger pressed in, and he groaned softly, again barely audible. His hips rose instinctly, trying to find some way to relieve the pressure. The powder white thighs trembled again and N lifted his hands to face, using the sleeves to conceal his face. The only thing visible was the small pink 'o' of a mouth.

Those tiny sounds were driving Mello crazy. Oh, how he wanted to hear that voice cry out... He watched as Near covered his face, and another bolt of powerlust jolted through him. Was the all-seeing Near actually afraid of seeing himself befouled this way? Or was it something else...was he ashamed, unwilling to admit that he was enjoying this, even now?

Either possibility was enough to tickle M's ego. He continued his ministrations for just a moment longer; he couldn't stand it anymore. The gloved fingers withdrew, and ran over the blond's throbbing arousal. Once. Twice. Oh God, no more delays! He lined himself up, pressing at the boy's entrance. Once he was positioned, his eyes drifted back to Near's face. He wanted to see how the unshakable N would react to this...

With a low, mewled moan, he eased inside the tight, hot confines of his rival. A tremor wracked him; it felt amazing...he wanted so badly to plunge deep, hard, fast... But he waited, hungrier for Near's reaction now than his own physical needs.

He felt the warmth of Mello's cock press firmly against him, and he realized what was happening as it happened. Stiffening a little as he was entered, Near's gasp was clearly audible this time. His panting became swifter as well, his thin chest rising and falling in short bursts. His toes curled in his socks, drawing his knees up, and his head tilted upwards as his lower back lifted smoothly from the ground.

His eyes remained covered, and he made no move to pull away, off, or defy Mello in anyway. He felt dizzy, confused, lightheaded. One word. Overwhelmed. Every nerve in his body was going haywire. He could make heads nor tails of the situation. Could not think of what to do. He had been stripped of everything and was overwhelmingly vulnerable to this particular assault.

Once again he was reminded that there was no one at the moment to save him. He would have to live with the consequences of his own actions. The act of admitting defeat. Another mewl slid out of him as Mello slipped deeper, and his fists tightened, still resting over his eyes.

Sheer ecstacy. To feel Near trembling, to hear him panting... And better yet, the utter unfamiliarity of the situation was causing Near to tense, only making it all the more enjoyable for Mello.

He'd dreamt of triumph over the ghost-child for years, but never had he imagined just how sweet the taste would be.

He withdrew slowly, gripping at Near's thin hips as though they were the only thing anchoring him to sanity itself. With his eyes still hungry for what reactions may rise, Mello slid back in, deeper this time.

He continued this for a few moments, before he began to crave something more... The fact that Near was covering his face was suddenly very agitating. Mello's eyes narrowed; defiant even in defeat? Not for long. "Look at me," he demanded, giving a particularly forceful thrust.

The lithe little body tensed slightly every time M pressed back in, but was slowly adjusting to accept the other's invasion. The breathing began to slow as well, exhaling with each thrust, inhaling as Mello withdrew. Slowly, precariously, he tried to gather his thoughts again, but each thrust only drove them further out of reach. He knew already the bruises on his hips he would have to look forward to soon. He could feel the gloved fingers and where they sank into his skin with the force.

He finally gave up and let them melt into the backdrop of his mind, allowing his body to move as Mello demanded of it. The whimpers were sprinkled freely now as his rival moved in him. He was being possessed, conquered and upstaged, in the most intimate of ways, in his own domain, and there was no denying that his body enjoyed it..

"Look at me." Without thinking or pausing, he followed the command, dropping his hands to his chest. Slate grey eyes that were having trouble focusing turned toward Mello. The cunning normally present at the forefront had faded to the point of almost disappearing completely. The pale cheeks were still pale, but tinted pink, hinting at the red liquid that rushed beneath the surface.

"Mel...oh~" he whispered at the more forceful thrust, consciously tightening again, pulling open the tiny crescent shaped wounds on his palm as he tightened his fists further. They welled up, smearing a bit of blood on his chest as secondary motion forced the wounded hand to slid across his the expanse of his ribs.

Mello gave a ragged grunt as he forced further inside, driven nearly over the edge by that beautiful inflection on his name. Oh God. Oh God... "Hhhfff...Say that again..." he panted, drawing himself into a position that would better allow for quick, shallow thrusts.

His gloves squeaked against Near's skin, night against snow. He watched the wisps of platinum hair move in delayed time to their motions, playing around those absurd, paradox eyes of Near's; always so dark, yet so full of intelligence and spark.

And yet, against that field of perfect white, what was that streak of brightness, of colour?

Mello slowed his motions just enough that he could let his eyes focus on Near's palms. Sure enough, etched in violent red against tender, quiet pallor, were traces of blood.

...Did I make him...?

His eyes darkened briefly, with perhaps a ghost of remorse. And sure enough, his motions became less rough for a moment...but there was no guarantee of restraint should Near's voice call him once more...

Near's eyes were almost completely hidden by the nearly silver tendrils of hair. They were curled, from his many many hours of playing with them, twisting them, tugging them. The quick thrusts drove the air out of him, but he again complied with Mello's command, breathlessly exhaling. "Mell - oh...."

He almost seemed like a doll, a pale, porcelain doll, that had been dropped on the ground and forgotten. Not broken, but cracked. Like the slightest touch could make him crumble into dust as fine as flour.

The thrusting slowed again, and Near fell silent, except for the soft. "Ah, hah, hahs~" that were born of each thrust. They were only the softest of sounds, one might think that their ears were deceiving them.

He was aware of the stinging on his palm, caused by the slight bit of sweat that had started to form on his body. These movement were more of a workout that he had ever had before.

To hear Near call his name so, that exquisitely empty tone tainted with something as alien as nuance of any sort, it filled Mello with something strange... Pride, almost.

He gave a low, throaty moan, and continued his current rhythm. The only thing that changed was that every few thrusts, he'd venture deeper, further... And his every movement was rewarded with the sigh of an angel, the flutter of a dove's wing, the scream of a butterfly.

He pulled out and repositioned once more, nearly laying atop the frail investigator, as he realigned himself. Now he could clearly see more evidence of the boy's hurt.

Smeared across Near's chest was fresh blood, a crimson outcry against flawless ivory.

Another twinge registered in the back of Mello's mind as his eyes re-focused on Near's. As he eased himself back into the warmth and comfort the boy had to offer, he leaned close, and ran his tongue over the reddened path. Saltiness, a slight bitter aftertaste. A far cry from his beloved chocolate, but the variation was pleasing in its own way.

His hands traced over the planes of Near's body, lingering over the spots that roused the most reaction from him. Hipbones, stomach, chest... All were tended to, almost lovingly.

With a strange grunt, Mello adjusted again, leaning back. He reached and pulled Near's knees up, raising himself up somewhat in doing so. The new position opened up new sensations for both, and he bit back another cry. His eyes swept over pale N once more, taking in all his frailty, his defeat, his utter compromise.

The dark-clad one's eyes flickered strangely, as though some forgotten flame had suddenly rekindled. He gripped Near's legs firmly and began a more powerful series of movements. He wanted to hear more of those delicious cries. He wanted Near to scream.

It was the deeper dives that solicited the most reaction. To feel Mello moving, inside of him, was both foreign and somehow pleasurable, a combination that further overwhelmed him. Even the simplest thoughts were far out of his rather long reach by now. He was nothing but a warm, shivering, slightly damp mass of muscles and instinct. His lessons, his senses, his control. All of these things that made him strong had abandoned him, apparently having decided that they were only fair-weather friends.

He felt naked. And it wasn't just his body. The way Mello moved told him volumnes about the other, but he was so discombobulated that he couldn't analyze any of the information. He was terrified of the way Mello eyed him. Those blue eyes had always been predatory, but never had Near been caught. Tom had finally snagged Jerry.

N tilted his head back, his supple body bending easily as M shifted and his hot tongue traced the small blood smear left on Near's ivory skin. The rapidly cooled trail that was left when the tongue withdrew made him give a strange sound as well, something close to a high, soft whine.

Then those hands were all over him, touching, exploring the tiny body as if they had long awaited the chance to do so. He found himself instantly on edge, further aroused, his body rigid, his pants becoming even more noisy, now with a hint of sound.

And then he was shifted again, his legs lifted easily, repositioned. His otherworldly eyes settled again on a point beyond Mello, almost as if he was looking through the one who took such advantage of him. If he could have felt anything at the time, he would have perhaps have been embarrassed. But his concious self had basically shut down. And then he felt Mello's angle change, the thrusts became harder, more demanding. Mello wanted something, and was trying to figure out a way to get it.

He found it. Near's reaction was sudden and loud, a startled gasp that was torn from his throat, accompanied by a stiffening, a tightening and a full body shudder. "Oh~ Ah! " his feet shoved down, forcing his ass higher, and making the curve of his back more acute. His eyes squeezed closed as his fingers splayed in surprise.

A strangled yelp of something beyond delight ushered forth from the flaxen investigator, and he knew he'd found the deepest, darkest secret Near had to offer.

And now there was no stopping him.

Mello's grin returned, though now twisted with a mixture of carnal hunger and triumphant satisfaction. He moved against Near, utilizing all his knowledge of the body and its innermost workings to eke out every moan, every cry, thrusting relentlessly at the porcelain one's pearl.

"Hhhfff... Nnn-haa~!" he panted, his fingers digging into Near, his knees forced against the floor, seeking further purchase. His thoughts were crumbling, turning to dust in his grasp; so overwhelming was this delicious warmth, tightness...

"S-scream, damn you..." he half-panted, half-whispered as he continued to work Near closer to the edge, feeling himself draw dangerously close himself.

The spidery, pale, splayed digits moved, inching down N stomach tentatively, as if afraid they were going to get hurt for wanting to relieve him. His pants had already been removed, and his body exposed. The way Mello moved in him had suddenly changed, and this new series of motions threatened to drive him mad. He was aching and he knew he needed release. He had touched himself before, though very few times, always alone, and always in a place where he could immediately clean up what mess he made. Just because he was not normal in some ways, did not mean all ways.

The way Mello hit him reminded him of a hammer. Each fall of it drove the nail deeper, made his cries louder, his body tauter. "Ah... M-mello!" he half-sobbed in pleasure, unsure of what was happening. How something like this could feel so good? He wouldn't say right. Nothing like this could ever feel right to him. But gods, he felt as if he were in a different world.

However, his volume never exceeded that of a loud moan, and there was certainly not the kind of screaming that Mello had demanded and hoped for. The tremors in his body grew more noticable though, and the breathy cries came in a string, each one cutting off the next, when he wrapped his fingers around himself and began to gently stroke. Already stimulated by Mello's motions, it did not take the pale young man long to reach the precipice... And tumble over.

His heart was visible, pounding underneath the paper colored skin of his chest, and his eyes remained closed. For a few moments only, he forgot everything, his pride, his defenses, his judgement. It was one of those once in a lifetime moments. There would never be a second moment as sweet nor as exquisite as this first time. His body gave something akin to a small convulsion, and he gave a soft, delightfully innocent mewl as his orgasm blasted through him. "Oh.... oh~ " he almost hooted.

Mello joined his pale captive soon thereafter; the sobbed cry of his name had thrown him hell for leather over the edge, and the clenching of the boy's muscles around his most sensitive flesh had sent his mind reeling into a new dimension of pleasure-drunken blackness.

His body continued moving within the frail N, riding out the last surges of bliss even as his mind succumbed to that strange, numb darkness that now embraced him. It lasted only moments, replaced by tingling warmth that spread throughout him, and made him feel somehow calm, centered.

Justified.

Thought returned to him; the dizzying ride only lasted seconds but felt much longer. Damn him. Again, Near got the better of him, when he least expected it...

How was Mello to know how damn good Near felt?

Sobered by this epiphany, he pulled out with a growl, all but dropping Near to the floor in the process. His icy eyes flitted over the pale, panting, spent form beneath him. And then it hit him.

Near had come before him.

A fiery snarl rose in the back of Mello's mind, only making it so far as his eyes. He snatched himself up and re-clothed himself. A thousand things came to mind, and almost made it to words, but only one thought survived the onslaught of rage.

M's lips twisted in a cruel sneer, and he watched Near recover for a moment. "So, how does it feel, Near? Are you satisfied with me as your only source of this kind of gratification?" he knelt over the prone boy, his hands resting at the sides of the silver-tressed head, pinning Near there without need for physical contact. His smile was a viper's grin, poised over a wounded mouse.

The ordeal had been over for at least a minute before Near found himself capable of any semblance of thought. His mind was fuzzy, as if he was in the middle of a lucid dream. He couldn't yet rouse his voice into something akin to words, but he was trying. He could feel the dark, looming presence over him, and didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to see that cocky, self righteous smirk he knew Mello would have plastered on his face. He felt as if his world was spinning out of control when he was abandoned.

Slowly, tenderly, he pulled the open flaps of his shirt closed, to conceal the evidence of what had taken place. He was throughly whipped, humliated, and there was no way to reverse time, nor pretend it hadn't happened. His knees pressed together as he slowly pulled his legs closed, feeling strangely weak from the lower back down, and strangely warm.

His oversized shirt offered no comfort now. Hiding behind a wall when the enemy already knows the weak points is rather useless. His breathing slowed a tiny bit, and his lips were once again pressed together, revealing not obvious emotion.

Those slate colored eyes slid open slowly as he felt Mello's body over him again, pinning him in place more effectively than if he had had his tailbone superglued to the floor. His pride had already run away, so he said something he normally would have never considered.

"Please, Mello. Don't say anything about this..." If his rival had ever had any respect for him, or even gratitude for what Near had offered, he would agree, and gloat over his triumph only with those closest to Mello, and allow Near to continue as he had before. Even if he said something, it wouldn't change who was now L's successor.

But, both of them knew things were forever changed. This was the one time Mello could be the bigger of the two, could show Near that he was just as human, or, inhuman as the pale one was. Near wondered which he would choose, and those cold blue eyes gave him no hint. Not this time.

Perhaps as Near might have expected, Mello chuckled lowly at this request. True, it would be a delight in and of itself to tear Near down from that pedestal he'd been placed on, to have that empire of perfection he'd strived to create forced to its knees. True, it was among the most deeply satisfying things he'd ever felt, to know that he'd been the one to make Near feel anything, let alone something so dark, so powerful.

But there was something else there.

Now that he'd taken something so precious from his rival... He couldn't quite understand why, exactly, but he felt like he had a duty to protect it.

He'd taken something, yes, but because of that, there was something of his that had replaced what was lost in Near.

Yes.

No one but Mello would have him. No one but Mello would defend him.

It was the Wammy House all over again.

The blond investigator leaned closer still, and shifted his weight to one arm. He took Near by the chin, and lifted it so that their eyes met, their noses and brows nearly touched. "Don't you worry," he whispered in a breath of sweetened, frostbitten acid. "This is our little secret..."