::Closed RP for Mello and Near::

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

((May stray into NSFW territory))



It wasn't an unreasonable request, Near knew. It had seemed almost silly on one hand and deeply profound on the other, for Mello to want to see him without dark glasses or protective contact lenses.

It would be exaggerating to say Near was hesitant. It wasn't as if he wore them as a psychological defense mechanism; merely to shield his eyes from glare. But there was a psychological component to Mello's request, and that was enough to give the matter weight.

Enough weight that Near hadn't wanted to do it in a rushed, offhand manner. But it's a calm day, and Mello should be returning to their room soon. The time, Near thinks, is right.

Without second-guessing himself, he takes out the lenses, dons his glasses, and adjusts the room lights to a comfortable dimness. He'll take the glasses off when Mello returns.

Comments

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

The painfully light touch of the feather makes Near yelp. He twists and wriggles in a vain attempt to get away.

"Oh, no, please, no, don't," he wheedles.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

Like that'll stop me. I keep brushing the feather lightly over his body, I move so I can reach his other side, too. It's fun, watching him squirm and writhe on the bed. I like it that he's ticklish.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

Near continue to yelp and thrash, trying to kick, to move his arms. Oh, it's maddening, maddening, each malicious featherstroke making him twitch anew, the hideous crawling sensation spreading to every bit of his skin, now prickling with gooseflesh.

"Oh, don't, that's awful, stop!" He all but shrieks it.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

I smirk. If he thinks I'm going to stop...in fact, I know he doesn't want me to. I move down a little so I can reach his feet, brushing the feather along his legs as I do. I also bring up my other hand and start lightly brushing his skin, tickling him with my fingers as well as the feathers. It's like playing with a well tuned instrument...like some koto players I've seen...each hand working independaetly to make beautiful sounds.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

Whimpers blending into a shrill keen, Near jerks, testing what little give his bonds provide him.

If he sounds like an instrument, at that moment, it's a poorly played bagpipe.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

It's a good think I know how to tie strong knots, the way he's jerking around. But, gods, the need, want, desire...the freedom in his voice. It all makes me want him more. My pants are just too fucking tight to wear anymore.

I lay the feather on his chest and slide off the bed so I can work myself out of the leather. Sometimes, leather is almost more trouble than it's worth.

When they're off, I climb back onto the bed and kneel over his thighs. I pick up the feather and drag it lightly over his hips, over his erection.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

Near shrieks at that, shrieks and bucks, moving almost as if he's trying to knock Mello off of him, even though he's savoring the touch of his skin with what little of his mind is able to.

Because, really, it's impossible to think while being tickled, tormented, in every sensitive place.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

I don't think I'll use the flogger this time. This is almost too much. I want...I want badly. But, at the same time, I want to see him writhe. I want to hear him beg. I keep running the feather over his skin, but I can see my hand trembling as I do. Which of us is going to win?

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

"Noooo," Near pleads. "St-st-stooooop..."

He's arching an twisting, skin already developing a sheen of sweat.

"That's so, oh god, Mello, that's so awful, please, please, oh, stop..."

How wonderful, wonderful, to be free to plead.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

"Why should I?" I demand, managing to make my voice sharp. "Why should I stop? What do I get if I do?" Please, beg me to fuck you already. I can't take much more.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

What a silly question.

"Me, you have me, I'm yours, I'll do anything, anything, god, Mello, please, please..."

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

"Please what, Near?" I lean over him, nose to nose with him. "Please what?" I reach over blindly for the bottle of lube on the bedside table. "Tell me," I demand.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

This close, he can see Mello's face, see his expression.

"Please stop, please stop tickling me and just touch me, just fuck me, I need, I need you, need to feel you..."

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

I kiss him, pressing his head back into the bed. I've won...we've both won. While kissing him, I move, spreading lube over his erection and then guiding it into my body. I groan deeply, but I keep kissing him.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

Near cries out again, a low groan that's smothered by Mello's lips, and he arches up, all but lifting them off the bed, fingers twitching, his hands closing and opening as if this could get him closer to caressing Mello, to stroking the warm skin of his chest.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

I rock my hips into his. My hands caress his chest, his neck his hair. I need to feel him deeper, though. I need more, deeper. I press myself up until I'm leaning back, bracing myself on his thighs. I can see his hands moving, reaching for me. I rocked on him. I'd wait. I'll let him hold me when we're done. For now, I'm satisfied. I set a nice rhythm and let myself enjoy it, our being together.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

Near shudders, overwhelmed by the sensation of being engulfed by Mello's tight heat. He's babbling again, incoherent pleas and endearments, begging just as fervently now that Mello not stop.

If he was a bit more lucid he might worry that he might wrench a shoulder in his struggles. As it is, he bucks and strains, hips thrusting up, up, with all the motion denied to his limbs.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

I love watching him struggle. Probably as much as he loves to struggle, when it comes down to it. I watch his body move, reveling in it, that he lets me do this to him. To hear his babble, to hear him not make sense, to not be able to make sense, because of me... To even think that pushes me to the brink. I lean back just a little and it is just enough to trigger my orgasm, even without touching myself. I moan his name as ripples of pleasure fill me, starting from where he is in me.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

It's almost the tone of Mello's voice as much as the contractions of his body, tightening coaxingly around Near, that drives him into a shrieking climax, hips driving upwards as if he could bury his entire body inside of Mello.

All the tension drains out of him at that moment, and he stares up, eyes dilated and unfocused, dazed and panting.

"Mello," Near whispers, needing to hold him, not daring yet to ask.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

I let myself fall forward. The good thing about the knots I tie is that when you pull the right part, they come undone easily, for all Near's struggling doesn't undo them. I'll untie his feet when I can move again. I can't even really move to kiss him or bring my arms back down to hold him. I just rest, panting, on top of him.

[cardarchitect.livejournal.com]

As soon as his hands are free, Near wraps his arms tightly around Mello, lips curved in a distinctly goofy grin.

"Love you," he whispers. Anything more eloquent will have to wait, but that's at the core of almost anything he'd say right now.

[mello-n-choco.livejournal.com]

"Fool," I mutter, managing to move enough to nuzzle into his neck. "Me, too," I whisper. I sigh and let myself just be. I love that he's clingy. Love that he loves me. It's how it should be.