Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme
Welcome to the Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme!
How it works:
* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade. ( Read more... )
How it works:
* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade. ( Read more... )
Even with Matt's mouth clamped tightly over the crook of Mello's neck to muffle his needy, needy, begging moans, he could still hear them in the hall outside the surveillance room. Still hear Mello's oaths whispered with each thrust. Still hear the grinding of denim on old plaster. Still hear flesh against flesh.
He heard want, heard heat, heard need, heard it all in the scratching of nails as they gouged troughs in the wall. And he would have slipped by them unnoticed and into the night-- but with his senses running high, Mello seemed to hear-no-almost-feel him moving through the dark and an arm whipped out and caught Near fast, dragging him back reeling. Burning breath against his ear implored:
Come now. Dance with us.
Four hands gave him no room to object. He hadn't intended to anyway.
Mello's rosary made fine makeshift bindings, with Matt's goggles wrapped-twice round for extra measure.
Well, look at this. Mello now whispers, running unlgloved fingers over his work. Aren't we a set. Near says ( ... )
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an arm whipped out and caught Near fast, dragging him back reeling. Burning breath against his ear implored:
Come now. Dance with us.
Four hands gave him no room to object. He hadn't intended to anyway.
Mello's rosary made fine makeshift bindings, with Matt's goggles wrapped-twice round for extra measure.
I CAME.
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Bite, he instructs Matt, a finger on one ghostly bump of collarbone. It's just above where Near's collar would fall. Right where anyone can see it. Will see it. Near knows this, and Mello knows Near knows it. And Matt obeys.
Near's reaction is barely discernable, but it's there, Mello sees, in the tightening of his fingers around the rosary-and-goggles and in the locking of his knees. Stubborn as ever.
Oh, but that just won't do, though. He undoes the fastening of Near's pants and slips one hand between those legs, tracing patterns slowly up a smooth thigh. There are goosebumps rising in the wake, but Near's face remains cool, even. So Matt cuts in.
His tongue leaves trails of cigarette ash -- they wind down the center of Near's chest, around the dip in his stomach, across his hips and down until Mello seizes his shirt collar and pulls him in for a smoke-and-chocolate kiss. Near is ( ... )
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