A/N: Alright. Here goes... It has sex and violence. It's rated M. I mean it. And don't tell me Mello wouldn't be capable of that! :D

Ten.

Near didn't seem surprised to hear that Mello had been caught. Then again, Near never seemed surprised, full stop. His voice was the same calm monotone over the line as he asked, "How is he?"

"He won't speak, at the moment."

"I presume that you have enabled suitable suicide prevention measures?"

Light did not let his surprise at the question show in his voice.

"He is restrained. He has no opportunity for self harm."

"I see. Is he eating?"

Light gave Aizawa a questioning look, and Aizawa nodded.

"Yes," Light said, "he is in good health. Near, I didn't know you cared this much about him."

Near was silent for a fraction of a second too long, then said, "I am merely curious."

Yeah. Right.

They spoke for a while longer, tentatively getting around to arrange a second meeting, but Light didn't feel the urgency he once had. Sure, he would meet Near, and put a stop to this whole thing, but... there was no rush. For one, he needed a substitute for Mikami. And he was running low on notebooks.

Days passed with a horrible lack of momentum. The others never said anything, but Light could feel them looking at him, could sense them talking behind his back. He had lost his drive. In fact, that was not true, but somewhere along the line, some point on the vector of his live had become skewed out of place and things had started to go wrong. Barely noticeable at fist, but now a point had been reached where the reality of his life had veered too far away from the way things were supposed to be, that the strain threatened to rip the whole thing apart. It couldn't go on like this and it could not be stopped. His life kept hurtling forward on this bent track, and none of the others could possibly know how it felt. Their existences all made sense. Nice linear lifelines all around. Only Light was feeling the pain of a screwed-up path. They would never understand. Misa would never understand. In fact, there was only one other person who would know what it was like. Alone, in empty rooms, Light often thought about Mello's scars and wondered if it was better to have physical proof of a life gone wrong. Something to tell you, every time you looked in the mirror, that no matter how fucked up things were, at least you weren't just imagining it. At least you weren't crazy. And then he would laugh at the twisted idea of Mello being the sane one among them. It was absurd, but so was life.

Then one night, he a dream. If he had tried to explain away what he had said to Misa in his sleep, this one was beyond all excuse. In it, he was back in the garage, chained down on the mattress, and Mello was standing over him. There was no discomfort from his hands or his feet, but he was unbearably aroused, that in itself bordering on pain. Mello—for it was Mello, not Mihael—was clearly aware of his state, and he was laughing.

"You want me to uncuff one of your hands, huh?" he taunted. "Might be worth it just to see how low Kira is prepared to go..."

Light was blushing furiously, but the humiliation was only making him harder. Mello squatted down beside him, crouching like a black cat on the concrete floor, the light shining off his tight leathers.

"Have you ever had sex with someone who really knows what they're doing?" he said, trailing a gloved hand over Light's chest and stomach. "Not just tipsy college girls who spread their legs and let you do all the work? Have you ever been taken right to the edge? When you're straining for release, every pore on your body gushing sweat... have you ever been made beg, Kira?"

Light quivered with the tension inside him; he was about ready to start humping thin air. And then, suddenly, he was naked and grunting with the effort of not actually begging as Mello's fingers caressed his skin, everywhere but there. Their eyes met, and Light saw all the strength and confidence he seemed to have lost.

"What do you want, Kira?" Mello asked, kneeling between his spread legs. He was naked too, but leaning forward and Light could not see all of him.

Light whined, fighting against verbally admitting what must have been fairly obvious from the way his legs gripped around Mello's hips, trying to pull him closer. Mello chuckled and leaned further forward, his lips only inches from Light's.

"Kira—you're going to have to say it. Didn't I tell you it was time to own up? Come clean..." he laughed. "Pun most definitely intended."

Light felt his control slipping. It was the cruel smile on Mello's face, the cold steel of the cuffs against his wrists, the relentless throbbing ache between his legs.

"Please... he mumbled. Do it. Do it! Take it from me! Take me!"

In the dream, there was no pain as Mello pushed into him, only a tremendous sense of invasion. Like Mello could read his mind now, see through his eyes, taste with his tongue. Light jerked and thrashed on the dirty mattress, both wanting it to end and never wanting it to end. Mello was hovering above him, whispering things in his ear that made him twitch and shiver. Names of the dead. Then, "Are you ready? You gonna let it go?"
Light could only moan. Mello grabbed him and stroked him and said, "Let go."

On his command, the world exploded. Light thought he was screaming, and the pleasure—though tinged with a sense of loss—was enough to blind him momentarily. When he could see again, Mihael was looking down on him with his kindest smile.

"Light, you did it. You're not Kira anymore."

Mihael kissed him, and he woke up, tangled in sheets, soaked in sweat, and wondering if this was how insanity started.

In the shower, he shook his head under the spray of water, trying to purge the lingering remains of the dream. Treacherous, evil subconsciousness. How could it do this to him, how could he do this to himself? If he had ever—and he was not saying that he had—but if he had ever even briefly had those kinds of thoughts about Mello, then surely Light had been the one in control. Bringing down justice. Showing him what happened to people who crossed Kira. But the thought of re-dreaming the dream but inversing the roles didn't do anything for him this morning. He brushed his teeth, trying to get the sour taste out of his mouth, and braced himself for another breakfast with Misa.

More days passed at a snail's pace. Light got the bandages off his hands and feet, but he felt like his whole body was enclosed in a plaster cast. His thoughts were drifting in work, and the others explained concerns for his health. PTSD was mentioned, and they wanted him to see a specialist. But Light didn't have PTSD. He had withdrawal symptoms. Staying away from Mello was like trying to go cold turkey on some dangerous addictive substance. And, like the vast majority of junkies who don't get help, he eventually relapsed.

It was late, the others had gone home. Only one guard was stationed outside the cells, watching a small portable TV and eating sandwiches. He got badly startled when Light showed up, and immediately tried to make excuses for his sloppy behaviour. Light brushed it off and told him to open Mello's cell, turn off the camera, and give him the keys to Mello's restraints. The guard knew this was against protocol, but he had just been caught slacking off, and Light was L. He tried to argue briefly, but Light gave him his best superior stare, and he caved. Light made a mental notice to get him fired when this was all over, and walked through the door.

Mello's bruises had faded. The way he was leaning back on the cot made him look like he owned the place. Light had never known anyone else who could pull off such authority with their hands tied behind their backs.

"Couldn't stay away?" Mello grinned at him, and Light's stomach responded. What was he doing here? WHAT did he think he was doing here?

"Did you want something, Mello? Only, you seemed to be staring into the camera like you had something to say to me?"

Light walked closer, feeling the electric aura crackle. God, but he wanted another one of those kisses, he wanted... No, he wanted Mello dead. He would have written his name on the tiny piece of paper hidden inside his watch, if not for the fact that Ryuuk claimed that Mello was immune to the death note now.

"Yeah, I want something," Mello said.

"Better spit it out then!" Light grabbed him by the front of the orange jump suit and pulled him to his feet. Mello was several inches shorter than him and had to tilt his head back just a bit to maintain eye-contact at such a close distance. Light could feel his breath against his skin, the heat off his smile.

"I want to use the toilet."

Light nearly threw him back on the cot. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said, "And I'm here to cater your every comfort, is that it?"

There was a toilet in the cell, and the chains would just allow him to reach it, all Light had to do was pull the zip down on the overall. Mello had done it for him, back there where Light had been so afraid of having to piss himself.

"Alright. Make it quick."

Light pulled the zip down all the way. His hands were trembling a little, but he put that down to the recently removed casts. A milky strip of skin showed through the gap, ending in a soft-looking patch of dark blond hair. Mello smiled at him and stepped even closer, almost pressing up against him. It was too much. Light had to step back or put his hands on him. He didn't want to back down. What did it matter? He had already let Mello kiss him. He slid his hands inside the coarse fabric, feeling soft skin over hard bones, stroking slowly downwards. Mello closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, and Light was screaming at himself inside to stop this. Mello planted a light kiss on his neck, just below the ear, and whispered, "You still so afraid of me?"

"What?" Light stopped in his tracks but didn't push him away. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"I know, right? The guard is just outside, all you have to do is shout. Even provided I could take you down—with my feet still chained to the wall—I'd still never get out of this cell."

"You couldn't take me down, Mello."

He let his hands resume their wandering and Mello purred in his ear, "Well then. What are you afraid of? Uncuff me. Let me touch you..."

Light's breathing quickened. This was no good; it was too good.

"I thought... you needed the toilet?"

Mello chuckled a little. "Yeah, I might just have stretched the truth a bit... aah!"

That little gasp was due to Light brushing his fingers lightly over a nipple, and it instantly made him want to do it again.

"So, say I do uncuff you. What will you do? Show me how the pros do it? 'Someone who really knows what they're doing' isn't that what you said?"

Mello drew back a little, but he didn't look angry, only surprised. In fact, his teasing little smile was turning into a wide grin.

"I never said that!" he let out a short but totally genuine laugh.

"Yeah you did. You said that you weren't some tipsy college girl spreading her legs..." Light trailed off as Mello started laughing in earnest. Something was wrong here...

"Why, Light Yagami, I do believe you're dreaming! So, how long have they gone on, these dreams of yours?"

Light swallowed, but he could already feel his face turning hot enough to heat the entire room. "Never mind... I... it was someone else. I remember now, it was this woman..."

"Don't be embarrassed! I've had dreams about you. Well, daydreams really..."

Mello leaned forward to lick his lips, and even though Light was furious with himself for slipping up like that, the following kiss effectively distracted him. He skated his fingers down Mello's sides, making him squirm in the most delightful way.

"So..." Mello broke away from the kiss. "In these dreams of yours... what do we do?"Light couldn't help but recalling in minute detail exactly what they had been doing—or, rather, what Mello had been doing—and his body responded accordingly. He didn't say anything, but decided to silence Mello's awkward questions with another kiss. It was getting sloppier and hotter by the second, and Mello let out little noises that just made everything that much worse. "Light," he mumbled between kisses, "let me touch you... You won our little game... let me... give you your prize..."

And why the hell not? Light was vaguely aware that his brain had yielded executive power to the southern branch, but Mello was right. Killing or hurting Light would not accomplish his goals. He couldn't win here; he was check-mated, out of options. Whether he wanted to do this out of an honest acceptance of Light's victory or—more likely—because he thought he could curry some future favour from him, it didn't really matter. Light could let him whore himself out now and crush him like a bug tomorrow. No bother.

He broke away and took the keys out of his pocket, motioning for Mello to turn around. He unlocked the shackles and tossed them on the cot, then spun Mello around to stare at him, challenging him to act on his newfound freedom. Mello rubbed his wrists briefly, then lunged out and grabbed Light by the hair, kissing him fiercer than ever. His other hand was tugging at Light's shirt until it came free of his belt. He let go of Light's hair, sliding one hand down his arm and the other up under his shirt. Light let it happen, revelling in how good it felt to let someone else call the shots, just for a little while. He'd take over soon... just not yet. Not while Mello was leaving his mouth but never his eyes, and raking his nails very lightly across his chest and stomach and—good god—dropping to his knees and starting to undo his belt.

"So," Mello grinned, "ready to see how the pros do it?"

Light could only gasp and throw his head back and close his eyes as he felt the pressure of his trousers give way to cold air, and hot breath, and finally... finally...

Pain. Excruciating, nerve-shredding pain, setting his whole body on fire. He tore himself away, screaming. He was bleeding, rather profusely. Mello pushed himself back onto the cot. His lips were smeared with blood, that horrible indifferent look back on his face.

"Sorry," he said.

Light screamed again, in pain and rage—mostly at himself for being such a mug—and desperately tried to tuck his bleeding organ back before the guard got the door open. How was he going to explain this? Mello's restraints being off, his mouth bloody and Light pressing his hands against his crotch. What would they think of him? Probably the truth. Fuck! FUCK! This was... disaster, pure and simple.

"You fucking bastard! You manipulative fucking whore!" he roared, and then the guard was there, wondering what had happened, why Light was screaming.

He left the cell, brushing off the guard's questions. He was still in so much pain, and he had to get home to put ice on his wounds. In the parking lot, he dared to look down briefly. The bleeding seemed to have abated. Not so his rage. He screamed again, howling up at the lamplight like a wolf at a cheap plastic moon. Fucking Mello. Fucking treacherous slut, fucking damned fucking cunt! He had to die. Death note immune or not, his life needed to end.

Light took a few determined steps forward. Oh, his crotch was on fire, but it was the anger that made him want to cry. Still, he pressed on. For home, for the ice-box, for the painkillers. Perhaps he should go to a hospital, make sure his tetanus shot was up to date. He had heard the human mouth was filthy with bacteria, so what wouldn't Mello's mouth be like. He was probably disease-ridden too, the fucking whore. Light should get tested for HIV and all the rest and... but the humiliation of his condition kept him. He just needed to get home and... Christ! Misa! How in God's name was he going to explain this to Misa? She took a lot of shit from him lying down, but there was really no way he could explain away teeth-marks on his penis and make it sound legit. This was going to cost him his marriage. Mello was going to cost him, not only his bloody wife, but his only remaining ally as Kira! God! He would have to kill Misa too. GOD!

Suddenly, a voice broke through his raging internal monologue. A voice laced with far too much amusement.

"Oh, Light, that has got to hurt!"

"Shut the fuck up Ryuuk!"

"Who knew Mello would be so desperate! He's like a wild animal! I always thought you'd get bitten, playing with him, I just never expected it to be so literally!" Ryuuk laughed.

"Shut up, just shut up, shut up..." Light mumbled, staggering forward. The pain was letting up some. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. He reached the road on the other side of the parking lot, spotted a stone bench there, and sat down. The cold helped.

"So... Light..." Ryuuk was giggling to himself, a very disturbing sound. "Light... what time is it?"

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Light snapped.

"Oh, just curious..." The shinigami kept sniggering and Light felt like the whole world was going crazy.

"Well, Ryuuk, it is..."

No. No, not this too. No no no no. His watch. His watch with the piece of the death note inside it that he always wore; it was gone. Moving like in a nightmare, he got up and started running.