/* Author's Note: This was written to the song prompt "The Red" by Chevelle.
FragilePuzzle & Forbiddensoul562 have also written a one-shot to this song,
and both are having a contest over who wrote the better story. Vote at
FragilePuzzle's author page!
This fanfic is written from Near's POV. Mello is the second character introduced in here.
Side Note: I do not own any characters portrayed in this piece of fiction.*/
His eyes always murdered me.
It was in the way he grazed his fingers across my face before curling them into a fist, tears flooding his pretty blue eyes. My shirt was soaked in red, hiding the bruises that would show underneath the thread. I had stopped bothering to change my clothes, because he never stopped bothering to ruin them. Perhaps it made him a little bit happier.
Seeing the red again.
I sat quietly in my room, placing dominos in intricate patterns across the floor. It was hours into the procedure, and I was almost finished.
Almost.
He slammed the door open, his face already glistened with humiliation. He must have found out what my feedback was on the past test… the one L himself assigned to the children. I figured out the puzzle perfectly and even came up with four other solutions to the problem. He, on the other hand, would have figured it out in a much different way, getting an answer with less impact.
Still, the answer could be worked out, just not in the best of ways.
Never happy with himself. Always comparing our minds, ignoring his own strengths and being more concerned about what others thought. He never stopped to consider that the boy who was admired most actually admired him.
I pulled my hand away from the plastic pieces, looking up at him. His eyes were wavering, blinking, allowing a new layer of tears to wash over his cheeks.
Nothing was spoken. Silence taunted us, causing him to shiver and start to choke on his sobbing. I wanted to reach out and use my sleeve to stop the tears from falling. I hoped that he could see that in my eyes, but when he was under the pressure of his own self-doubt, it was hard for him to analyze anything underlining.
He didn't have to say anything to let me know how hurt he was… how much he despised every fiber in my being. It was his body language that told me. I watched him dart towards to, being on his toes, and lunge at my body. His knee hit the last domino piece I had placed down, causing a chain reaction with the others. He ignored the consistent sound of clatter, grabbing my neck with his hands.
He was convulsing, his vocals caught between a wail and a scream. My hands were clutched around his own, trying to pry his nails out of the skin. Desperately, his fingers moved to suffocate me, pinching every nerve in my throat. I opened my mouth in an attempt to call his name.
My head was lifted up and then brought back down, smashing into the cold tile. I instinctively cried out, but the air never passed my lips. He pulled my head up again, this time catching my breath with his own. Chapped lips were crushed against wet ones as he started to suck in the air that filled my lungs. It was both intoxicating and daunting, causing me to close my eyes and open my mouth wider. Whether it was to catch my breath or surrender, he took this as his opportunity.
He pushed his tongue past my lips, getting a gasp as my response.
Air filled my chest once again, but was quickly robbed when he sucked in again.
I think it made him happy, feeling me struggle helplessly underneath of him. His lips formed a smirk, making my skin crawl. He moved a hand from my neck to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of white curls. He brought my head back with a sharp yank, exposing my white throat. I whined slightly, trying to steady my breathing with whatever air I had left.
His soft tongue snaked down the shell of my ear to the tendons running down my neck. I pressed my lips together, trying to not let out a squeak. It was hard, just like the look in his eyes. I watched as his pupils dilated, watching me with a dark intensity. I'm sure he saw the response he wanted from mine, because he smirked dangerously.
His tears were now dry, and he seemed too focus on this new game to care that his face was still stained with them. He leaned down again, this time his tongue found its way to my collarbone. He nipped at my pale flesh, leaving wine-red blemishesprinted along the bone. He grabbed the front of my shirt, ripping it apart and tossing the folds to the side.
I tried to speak – really, I did. I was going to stop him, but his hand found its place on my mouth. I gasped once again, finding my hands clutched to his shirt. I gazed at him, watching how he changed his expression when he saw my figure. A wave of excitement and twisted arousal must have coursed through his body. He was starting to sweat, the beads tracing his temples. Now was the time to get him to stop before this became something he'd regret… I had to protect him, even if it meant ruining another shirt.
Unfortunately, my body was betraying me, leaving me stiff underneath the predator. My mouth was immobile, and I felt mute. Helplessly, I watched him fumble with the strings on my pants, untying the double knot that held it to my waist. He jerked down the cotton fabric, pulling my briefs with it. Cold air collided with sensitive flesh, causing me to become slightly erect. My lips slightly opened, a low whimper managing to escape past my lips.
I was failing at what I needed to do by letting him take control of the situation and put himself in a predicament. My mind screamed at me, violently scolding me for not opening my mouth and stopping this. He brought his warm hand to my untouched shaft, curling his thin fingers around the base. He began to rub up and down, causing my body to spasm.
Goosebumps perked up along my arms and legs. His hand kept squeezing my member as I unwillingly let myself seep a little precum from the head. Moans were being vocalized into tiny breaths of air with each pump. My hands were no longer clutching bunched fabric; instead they were filled with blond locks of hair.
He seemed to disagree with my hands changing position, using his own free hand to push them away and hold them above my head. He continued to jerk my now swollen member in his tight fist, keeping my reactions coming like a song on repeat. The same expressions crossed my face, making him grin sinisterly down upon me.
My frame was practically begging for his touch. It was displayed in my tired eyes.
It was shown by the way my groin was throbbing.
It was heard through the whimpering that broke our silence.
The sound of cum squishing between fleshes was growing louder as he started to fiercely pound his fist up and down. It drove my senses crazy, and I was beginning to lose the battle – truly lose the fight.
It was then that I gave up trying. He was forcing my being to devour every inch of this sick pleasure. His violent tendencies had grown into something more unfathomable. He was enjoying this, more than I expected him to. Perhaps it was due to the weak, defenseless character I was portrayed as. I just couldn't keep it in anymore. I laid my head back, closed my eyes, and let out the loudest cry I could make.
It caught him off-guard. His awareness kicked back in, and I'm sure he realized this was no longer a violent strike against me. Rather, we were both fulfilling a strong, instinctual side of ourselves through deep, undiscovered emotions which would never be revealed.
He released me, standing up and staring at his cum-coated hand. I didn't get to see the look in his eyes, but I imagine it was a cross between shame and melancholy.
He left, leaving me tattered beside my once-perfect domino setup. My gaze was affixed on the incomplete finishing touch. I lifted up my arm, reaching out for the piece that refused to collapse from the chain reaction.
Clicking my finger against the plastic, I watched it fall and take the remaining few pieces with it.
- FIN -