The smell of cinnamon and peppermint drifted around the whole building complex. Pine needles were scattered across the maple wood floors, plucked strings from the garland sitting atop nearly every surface visible. Laughter, songs, and all around cheeriness was evident in nearly everyone's eyes. Wrapping paper and assorted candies littered the floors of the main rooms and the kitchen.
The girls in the orphanage were sitting around, giggling at nothing while they gaily braided each other's hair, tying the pigtails off with red, green, or silver ribbon. In secret, they whispered about which boy they were currently crushing on that week, a small crack of hope leaking into their hearts as they wished that "special someone" (if only for that moment) would send them an extravagant gift: better yet, extravagant gifts.
Meanwhile, the boys were running around like extreme fools. Either that or they were sitting around, just "hanging with their boys," not really doing much. To them, this special holiday was nothing but another nuisance. Thinking back, I realized that the only reason one of them gave a flying flip was because he would get yet another heap of toys from his teacher, L.
Then there's me. I'm not much for holidays: I'm a rather antisocial person, living in my own little world. It's actually a quite peaceful world, the only conflicts are between me, myself, and I. One of the few reasons this special holiday, known as "Christmas" to most, gave me a little thrill was the idea of snow falling, which would create the best Christmas yet. Something about those white flakes, all unique, made me want to just be a kid again—without worrying about doing the best I can at school, making the most out of my life, all that delicious teenage jazz.
For the millionth time that day, I looked out my bedroom window, wishing for those brilliant little pearly flakes to fall from the clouds sending an overcast on the whole scene just outside my room. A golden speck caught my eye as I look down on those children who'd always considered me to be an outsider. That little speck was none other than the locks of someone very close to my heart: Mello.
He may not have been the smartest person at Wammy's House—he was always second to the infamous Near—but he intrigued me the way no one else could. Maybe it was his spitfire attitude, maybe it was simply because I knew he was unattainable, but something about him lit that spark deep within my being. Call it lust, but I knew it was something more than my hormones speaking. Although, as a fourteen year old girl, I knew nothing of love- of that I was sure.
Without really thinking about what I was doing, I found myself pulling on my blood red mittens and yanking my black ski cap over my unruly chocolaty brown hair, allowing my bangs to slip over my bright emerald eyes. I tied my black combat boots loosely before trudging out of the front entrance of Wammy's—the orphanage I'd been staying at since I was just a young girl. Memories of the first day I came to that home for children, sans parents, came flooding back to me.
I quickly shook the thoughts away and made my way to the three inch deep snow. Once I reached the field blanketed with white, I found a deserted spot near the corner of the building and sat down, not caring if my ass got a little wet. After all, it wasn't of my deepest desire to run out with the other boys, girls, "gentlemen" (even though there was nothing very gentleman like about them), and "young ladies" just so I could feel that tightening in my chest I get every time I'm around a large group of people.
I scanned the very cliché Christmas scene before me, taking in all of the laughter and smiles, shoving them into my pockets to remember on a later date. My green eyes lit up once again as I spied the true object of my desires—that blonde haired, over impulsive, short tempered teenager—Mello. Eyes raking that flawless body hidden beneath layers of winter clothing, I sighed contentedly. Tendrils of want and lust licked at the back of my mind as I took in the sight of the gorgeous blonde throwing snowballs at his supposed best friend, Matt. No matter how hard I tried, images (very explicit images) kept pushing themselves to the front of my brain, demanding attention.
The sound of someone crying out in agony shook me from my adulterated thoughts. Glancing up, I saw a little girl, no older than six years of age, with a bloody nose and streams of tears pouring down her fragile looking face. Frown adorning her whimpers for help, she began rubbing the back of her head, searching for blood that might have seeped out of her skull during her fall. Chuckling at her innocence an paranoia, I sauntered over to the weeping girl.
She was shivering uncontrollably as I held her in my arms, cradling her as if she were a baby. "What happened, sweetie?" I smiled gently, wishing she'd give me an answer.
Her gloved finger pointed at a small group of young boys, one of them holding a basketball they'd snuck out of the play room and sobbed harder, gasping for breath. I shushed her, cooing sweet things in her ear. Surprisingly, well, not so surprisingly, no one else had come to the sweet girl's rescue. When she finally caught enough breath to speak, she sputtered out, "Th-they threw a b-b-ball at me! A-and then I-I f-fe-eeeell!" She screeched the last part so that everyone noticed her. Everyone within hearing range looked from me to the bleeding, weeping girl in my arms with curiosity visible in their questioning eyes.
I closed my eyes and sighed. I scooped the girl up as I stood to go to the main building to help her "bleeding" situation. "What's your name, honey?" My voice was gentle, calm, warm.
"Kriss," she muttered.
Eyebrows knitted together, I questioned, "Is that your alias?"
She shook her head side to side, auburn curls bouncing at the movement. Once again I sighed, but kept walking all the same. For the moment, her ignorance wasn't important—her nose was still bleeding, a lot. I was shocked at how quiet she grew as we came near Watari's office. It was like she knew who that guy really was, and I don't mean just as the man who ran her "home."
After a few minutes of explanation, Watari took the small form in his arms and thanked me. It was a dismissal, I knew—one I was glad to take.
Not wanting to deal with another crisis like that in the same day, I took my time walking back to my room. Luckily for me, I didn't have a roommate, so I was free to barge in and out of the room as I pleased. The door creaked as I opened it, just as it always did and probably always will, and I crossed the room, taking a seat in the chair by the window. I found myself staring longingly through the thick sheet of glass, searching for you know who.
But he was no where to be found. How strange, I thought. Surely he enjoyed the freedom of not having tons of papers to complete, not having to compete with Near just this one day.
"Looking for me again, I see." A deep and languid voice made me nearly jump out of my skin. Angrily, I whirled around in my desk chair, heat rushing to my face. "You really are too predictable, Isabel." He spat my name, my real name, as if it were acid on his tongue.
I gasped as he said my true name and not my alias. Without thinking about the consequences, I jumped out of my chair and nearly yelled in his face, "Don't say my real name, Mihael!"
It was his turn to anger at a person's words. He stepped closer to me and lifted his right hand as if he were going to hit me. As his frozen hand made its way to my cheek, I winced as I prepared for the blow he was sure to send my way. Instead of a harsh slap in the face, he gently caressed my crimson red cheek. That small gesture scared me out of my wits, even more so than a hit to my blushing face would have.
I realized he had no intention of moving his hand any time soon, so I melted into his touch. Mello ever so slightly leaned in, his hot breath tickling the chapped skin on my lips. "I know you've been watching me," he whispered against my mouth.
Shivers ran up my spine while a deeper red sprinkled across my cheeks. I opened my mouth to respond, but before a sound could come out, Mello crushed his soft lips onto mine. Almost instantly, he slid his tongue out of his mouth, swiping it across my mouth, asking for entrance. I granted him access, his slimy wet muscle mapping out my mouth.
There was no way I'd let him win that battle, be the one "in charge." I shoved my tongue into his hot cavern, feeling his teeth, his gums, and massaging his own tongue. Soon, our muscled became twisted in a battle for dominance, of which I won.
Smirking into the kiss, I pushed Mello toward my bed. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back. I crawled my way over his body and began nipping, licking, and kissing his exposed neck as my hands unbuttoned his black leather vest. After getting rid of the offending article of clothing, I let my hand slide under his pants, teasing him to know end. The blush that spread across his face (very uncharacteristically) didn't go unnoticed by me. I chuckled at his childish behavior and grasped his half hard member and began pumping the organ painfully slow, all the while making love marks over every part of his chest.
Finished with teasing the moaning pile of hotness, I swiftly peeled away his leather pants and threw them haphazardly onto the wooden floor of my room. My emerald eyes stare wonderingly at his erection—he'd gone commando, which made things easier and quicker for me. I looked down at myself and realized I still had everything on, jacket, hat, and mittens included.
I smirked before slowly and sexily slipping off my winter wear. Then I made a show of slowly tugging off my dark blue t-shirt and dark jeans, leaving my panties and bra on for a later event that was sure to take place.
Once all of my articles of clothing were removed, I sat on the bed, knees tucked under my ass. Eyes glinting with lust, Mello stare at me as if I'd just turned into a crazy alien and called him mommy. Grinning mischievously, I leaned forward and blew on the tip of his hard cock, smile growing wider than ever. Like a child licking a lollipop, I slid my tongue over the head of his hardened member. A moan escaped Mello's mouth, playing music to my ears. I'd wanted for that very thing to happen, for the blonde to moan for me, for as long as I could remember. Bringing myself back to the present, I licked the vein on the underside of his penis. He whimpered in response.
"Don't be a fucking tease…" He managed between strangled gasps.
More than willing to oblige, I engulfed his member whole and began sucking tentatively. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to do—I'd learned everything I knew about sex from reading "adult romance novels." For the moment, I forgot about my experience, or lack thereof, and sucked on Mello's cock harder. The blonde wriggled and moaned, whimpered and begged for more. Just as I felt his cock begin to throb at the coming of his orgasm, I released his aching member, emitting a 'pop.'
He groaned and I smiled with mock innocence as I began to kiss his neck once again. I opened my mouth and let my teeth graze his hot skin before sinking my teeth into the flesh just enough to allow some blood to leak out. Mello moaned, grabbed my hips, and roughly switched our positions so that he was on top of me. He stared into my eyes, searching for something I hope he'd find: a confirmation of what I wanted. Instinctively, he nodded his head.
Mello's hot mouth kissed its way down my stomach, his hands expertly undoing the clasp on my lacey bra. When his face was right in front of my already leaking pussy, his teeth began to yank on the thin material of my panties. I gasped as the cold air washed over my hot clit. Mello licked his lips before letting his tongue gently slide over my shaved and pink pussy.
Moaning, I squirmed and begged him for more. Being as compliant as always, the blonde thrust his tongue inside me, licking my walls. Incomplete sentences flew out of my mouth, along with many curses from the sensation bubbling in the bottom of my stomach.
"M-Mello… Please…" I whimpered.
He smiled sadistically. "Please what? What do you want, Isabel?"
"Fuck me," I spat threw clenched teeth.
"Beg for it." His smirk grew wider as I didn't say anything, only turned my head away from his hungry stare.
He began to stand up, about to leave me alone in my horny state. "Please, Mello, I need you in me! Now! Please! Just fuck me already!"
Mello snorted snobbishly, acting like he usually does, but got on top of me anyway. His lips crashed deliciously onto mine in a searing kiss, full of passion. Our tongues tangled together as he slowly pushed himself into my tight ring of muscle, skipping the foreplay of stretching my entrance out. Once he was completely inside me, I pulled away from our kiss and nearly cried out in pain. It felt as if I was being torn in two. Soon, though, all I felt was immense pleasure. I moved my hips against Mello's, demanding he moved this instant, or he'd be missing some of his male parts. Smirking, he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving only the head of his cock inside my vagina, before slamming back into me.
A little bundle of nerves was struck as he pounded into me a second time, causing me to cry out in pleasure. "There, Mello, again!" I yelled.
Surely enough, he hit that spot dead on every time he rammed his hard cock into me. Before long, I felt my climax quickly approaching. "Mello, I'm going to-"
"Me too," he grunted as he quickened the pace.
With a few more thrusts, we came together, screaming into the high heavens. We chimed our names as we came, his hot seed spilling into my body. After a few breathless pants, he pulled out of me and plopped down next to me.
He wrapped one arms around my waist and pulled me into his slick with sweat chest. I curled up against the warmth. "I love you, Isabel."
Mello's words shocked me into a state of complete incoherency as I tried to stutter out how I loved him too. I just couldn't find the words. Instead, I kissed him with every fiber of my being, grateful for his eagerness to mash his lips deliciously onto mine.
After a few minutes of yet another heated make out session, my precious blonde pulled me into him, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed sleep to overtake his being. Before he fell completely into the darkness of sleep, he whispered "I love you," in my ear.
Once his breathing became steady, I finally found my voice. "I love you, Mihael…" I could feel his smirk against my cheek as he nuzzled into my shoulder, his blonde locks tickling my face. I more than gladly curled into his "sleeping" form and allowed myself to be overtaken by the temptation of sleep, the sounds of children's laughter still resonating throughout my room.
Christmas really is the best holiday, like they all say.